Snow White, Blood Red
by LA Knight
Summary: There is a shadow waiting at the edge of the world. It fears only a silver prince and a scarlet demon. It hunts for a princess in a tower of old bone, the warrior who guards her, and a bard who wields a blade. And the living Darkness watches and waits. AU
1. A Change in the Wind

_**Author's Note:**__so yes, I know I have a_Hellboy_fanfic already (a very popular one; we're on chapter 44 and in the mid-300s on reviews) but my beta/roommate had this idea for a fanfic and she's really persuasive so I started collabing with her on this. Hopefully you enjoy it. It's very experimental. Yay for experimenting!_

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**Snow White, Blood Red**  
><strong>A Modern Faerie Tale<strong>

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**Prologue**  
><strong>A Change in the Wind<strong>

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_People disappear all the time. Ask any policeman. Better yet, ask a journalist… Young girls run away from home; young children stray from their parents and are never seen again. Housewives reach the end of their tether and take the grocery money and a taxi to the station. International financiers change their names and vanish into the smoke of imported cigars. Many of the lost will be found eventually, dead or alive. Disappearances, after all, have explanations._

_Usually._

**.**

_3:45PM  
>Library, BPRD Headquarters<em>

Abraham Sapien floated amidst the cool blue, enjoying the delightful strains of Stravinsky's "the Firebird" emanating from his special, water-proof headphones. Nibbling on a rotten egg, he hummed along and lightly kicked his webbed feet. Gentle flutes and strings practically shimmered beneath the water. For once, the _icthyo sapien_ was entirely at peace. There had been no new cases in several days. Red and Liz, as far as he could currently gauge, were getting along perfectly (for once). The last email they'd received from Special Agent Myers had been cheerful despite the freezing Antarctic temperatures. He was going to be in New York on leave for the next couple weeks and might stop by to see them. Things were good.

Abe blinked at the first faint, dark brush of... something... against the outer barriers of his mind. His imagination, or something more?

The rotten egg slipped from his webbed fingers, forgotten, as he made a full three-sixty rotation in the water, free hand up and palm open, scanning. Scanning. There was Red and Liz in their room. Manning in his office. The countless "normal" agents working out or eating or patrolling. In fact, all he sensed were the bustling, everyday lives found in the hive-like BPRD headquarters. Nothing out of the ordinary. And yet...

_There it is again,_the fish-man thought when that dark something washed over his psychic self. _What is that?_It felt young. Almost adolescent. No malevolence or anger in it at all. Yet it also felt strangely ancient in a way that few things he'd encountered ever had. A false god? A demon? A particularly strong Old One? Or something else?

Whatever it was, it stopped abruptly when it touched his mind. Poked a little. The psychic sensation Abraham felt then was almost... apologetic. And then it was gone, leaving the _icthyo sapien_ pondering it. Perhaps a strongly gifted psychic child? That would explain the aura of strange simplicity left behind by that powerful mind. Extreme psychic ability was very common in children who suffered from mental retardation. That would explain the youngness and the intense extrasensory energy… but it didn't explain the unique, ancient feeling of the mind that had touched his. It hadn't felt supernatural the way a demon's mind did, either. But it hadn't felt human...

Well, whatever it was, it meant the BPRD no harm. He could sense that, as well. So Abe would say nothing. His own early memories of his first years at the Bureau - grueling research experiments, inhumane conditions, and the barely-thwarted threat of vivisection, halted only by Hellboy and his… _unique_ way with people - made him hold his tongue.

**.**

_4:12PM  
>Tucson, Arizona<em>

There's a saying often applied to old houses: _if these walls could talk._Such a house stood amidst the desert sands, windows dark and shades drawn against the blistering late-summer heat baked into the ceramic shingled roof and stucco walls. A phantom walked the halls of this house. Tasted the memories soaked into its walls as it studied the papers spread out on a rickety kitchen table and scanned the sloppily written words written in ink just beginning to fade with age.

_"It feels like there's more to this world than either of us are seeing. I just don't know what. Neither does Siobhan. Maybe it has something to do with the dreams. Or maybe the dreams are because of finals. Jeez, I hate finals. If I could drop out and be a lazy bum forever more, I totally would. But I'm not old enough yet. Have to be sixteen to drop out. Stupid law._

_"But all kidding aside, I can't stop thinking about these stupid dreams. They don't make any sense. I'm standing out on the porch. Monsoon is coming - I can see the clouds, black with rain. Lightning strikes. I can smell the charge of it in the air. And I'm waiting for someone. It's not Siobhan (she's standing right next to me). And in_her_dreams, I'm standing right next to her. But whoever I'm waiting for needs something. Something I have. Only it's not just me. I don't know what it is, but I'm not the only one who has it. Lots of people have it. Whatever it is._

_"And there's a white coyote loping toward me on the edge of the storm. Is he the one I'm waiting for? I don't know. Especially since coyotes and dogs scare the jeebus out of me. I don't think I'd be standing all calm in the middle of a thunderstorm if I'm waiting for a coyote that probably has rabies and wants to eat my face for dinner._

_"Only the coyote never gets to me. A bolt of lightning strikes the sand right in front of it, blinding me. When I can see again, the coyote is gone. Not even charred bones. Only the sand is scorched. And there's this awful sense of loss, like I've lost a part of my soul or something. And betrayal. Not like I've been betrayed, but like I've betrayed someone else. Like I've destroyed something or someone._

_"I just don't know who."_

The phantom presence gently traced over the words with its consciousness. The last line was smeared as if with drops of water. When the presence lifted the topmost page to lightly inhale the scent of it, there was the sharp tang of salt. Tears. Good. Her heart had made the connection nearly five years ago, even if her mind still hadn't yet. It would take that damaged mind a long while to make that connection. But she _was_ almost ready.

Putting the page aside, the phantom lifted another sheet of paper. The handwriting was different, more rounded than the other. Yet the words were the same. Oh, not exactly. Not identical. But the passion, the sorrow, the yearning... it was all there. It would have made the phantom being smile - if such a creature could smile.

"They are ready for the first step, and just in time. The gate will soon be open." After all, the wind was changing.

Papers flew in a sudden gust of wind. Whirled around and around the cramped kitchen before fluttering to the floor. When the pages had settled to the cracked linoleum, the phantom was gone.

**.**

_4:30PM  
>The Troll Market, Brooklyn<em>

Human legends are often based on truth, even if that truth is only a tiny seed amidst the life of the myth. Still, some hit far closer to the truth than most mortals would dare to imagine. And one of those bits of truthfulness was this: trolls live under bridges. Believe it if you're smart, don't believe it if you like (and you have a potential death wish), but under almost every bridge resides a troll.

Beneath the east end of the Brooklyn Bridge, the Troll Market bustled with activity. Vendors hawked their wares in trills, whistles, clicks, roars, and calls. Ogres slugged back mason jars full of different colored drinks (most of them alcoholic). Tiny piskeys and other wee fae scuttled through streets trying to avoid being smushed by larger patrons. Faerie children giggled over toys and sweets set out on display. Steam hissed. Condensation and grimy water dripped from pipes. Feet splashed through puddles. Shadows gathered.

The troll was large enough, muscled enough, scarred enough that he didn't have to worry about shadows. He strode through the Troll Market with the unconceited swagger of a warrior born and bred. Pausing only to purchase a steaming haunch of _zlatorog_ from a meat-vendor and a jack of manna cordial from a drink-seller, the troll moved through the Market as if driven. And this night, he was. Driven by his liege lord's orders, by the ticking of his internal clock that reminded him that tonight it would end. The exile, the dwelling amidst the shadows. Tonight, Prince Nuada Silverlance would declare war on the pathetic humans and shatter the truce between the mortals and the Fair Folk.

Wink had been in the service of Prince Nuada for more years than the frail, pathetic humans could possibly imagine. He was not simply Nuada's vassal and shield-brother. He was the last of the warriors that belonged completely to the Silverlance - bound to the prince by fealty and the magic of the royal family that called to those meant to serve. Every true leader of the fae had the summoning magic of kinship, a power that called to those whose hearts were irrevocably bound to that leader. King Balor had always possessed it. So had Nuada. Wink had felt it when he and the prince had both been boys on the practice field during weapons' training. In that moment, though the troll had been but a stripling, he knew he would have laid down his life if Nuada had asked it of him, and would never have asked why the prince thought it necessary. There had been others who also felt the pull, but they were gone now. Dead in the wars. Only Wink remained.

Nuada's vassal paused just before entering the tunnels that led to the prince's underground lair. Tore into the haunch of faerie venison as the spines on his back suddenly bristled. The Troll Market, being underground, didn't see much in the way of breezes. Yet tonight, there was just the faintest tickle of wind from the north. It brought with it a hint of frost, a warning of winter yet to come. For some reason it gave Wink an uneasy feeling. A faint sense of dread, or perhaps only anticipation. After all, everything would change tonight.

Everything.

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_**Author's Note:**__okay, so there is our prologue. What do you guys think? Too early to tell yet? I know it's very, very different from_Once Upon a Time_(no heroine in peril introduced in the first chapter, and we haven't seen Nuada or Red yet, or even Nuala). And it's also very different from_Waking the Prince _(when that's popping up, I have no idea). But I hope you guys enjoy it. Yes, chapter one and two are to be posted alongside this prologue because I want to give you all a good start in the story so you can more easily form an opinion. So... yeah._

_So, yes, I know, I have a really really popular_Hellboy_fanfic (by the name of_Once Upon a Time) _currently in-progress. However, I update fairly regularly (like, at least 4 chapters a month) so I don't feel that bad about starting a new one. However, this fanfic is special. I'm writing it with two different goals in mind._

_Goal number__**one**__, I'm collaborating with someone (my beta/roommate). Now, some of my more devoted fans (hi, Ocean) know that I've worked a bit with other authors before. Well, that's usually for a scene or a plot point/idea or a plotting conundrum. This time, I'm starting at the beginning with another author, IK Scott, and working with her until the end - either of the fic, or one of our lives. Whichever comes first._

_Goal number__**two**__, you know how the whole "regular mortal falls into fandom world at just the right time and right place" is totally overdone and usually when a new author (new meaning never done it before, not new period) tries to do it, it ends up sucking? Well, I/we are trying to see if it won't suck. With the success of_Once Upon a Time_, I'm wondering seriously if I might be able to accomplish this (with my beta/co-author)._

_So if you absolutely don't want to see this, you probably shouldn't read any further._

_**BUT**__, for those of you wondering about all the freaking plot holes in the second film (why didn't they melt the crown piece before Nuada showed up instead of melting the crown at the end of the film? Why didn't they make sure that he couldn't glean the location of BPRD HQ - gotta love those acronyms - from Nuala's brain? Why did Nuala stab herself in the heart and not in the hand/arm/stomach even?), continue reading now._

_We love all of you. Goodbye. Enjoy._

_**Disclaimer:**__the first two paragraphs (well, first paragraph and the next word) are an excerpt from the prologue to Diana Gabaldon's novel,_Outlander_. It was beautifully written, intriguing, and fit in with this prologue, so I borrowed it. Fair use laws allow this, as I'm making no money on it, I'm not claiming it as my own work, and it makes up less than 30% of the work. Actually, it makes up less than 30% of the chapter. It's about 6% (not counting author's notes). So yeah._

_**Mary Sue Litmus Test Scores**__for Aisling, Geoff, Siobhan, and the unnamed character are__**17,**____**8,19, and**____**9**__(it helps that Geoff's a guy, and keep in mind that this is an AU/real-world-character-dropped-into-fandom fanfic). If I need to post the Test Results, let me know._


	2. Witchstorm

_**Author's Note:**_ _well, now that we've hopefully succeeded in whetting your appetites, here's chapter 1, where you finally get to meet the MCs. Yay. Yes, that's MCs, plural. We're giving some new and different things a shot with this fic. Yay. Hope it's working._

_Also, I've discovered a great way to come up with character bios. At least if the character is in college. You take the course study catalogue from your local university and drop it from a particular height (like the top of a bookshelf) and see what page is up when it lands. Then you flip a coin and if it lands head up, that's your character's college major. Is how we got Siobhan's major. Unfortunately my beta and I didn't coordinate so we_both _did it, and I got Japanese weaponry and martial arts and she got ROTC which isn't a major exactly but whatever. So we made Siobhan into this gung-ho GI Jane type. We built her history around that._

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**Chapter One**  
><strong>Witchstorm<strong>

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_Tucson, Arizona  
>4:29PM<em>

Lightning flashed; a spike of luminous pearl against iron-gray clouds. Thunder boomed, rattling the windows of the SunTran public bus. The air was heavy with the threat of end-of-monsoon rain. Almost sticky. Tourists who came to Arizona this time of year refused to believe it a desert. Generally it felt more like a swamp, unless the summer rains were late.

Today the rains were exactly on time. As the clock slid from 4:29 to four-thirty, another flash of brilliant lightning ripped open the sky. Rain smashed down to soak the thirsty earth and flood the empty riverbeds.

_And I have to walk home in that,_Siobhan thought, thunking her head against the now-cold bus window. _Joy._ At least her "sister," Aisling, would have dinner waiting when she got home. Daydreams of hot apple cider and reheated leftovers kept any irritation at the weather at bay. _Maybe she'll even make blueberry-raspberry muffins._ Those were always a treat.

The SunTran bus pulled up at her stop and Siobhan hopped off into the torrential downpour. She was immediately soaked to the skin. And she had a three-mile walk before she got to the little house she shared with her "sister" and their roommate. Though three miles in the rain wasn't beyond her abilities - four years in JROTC and ROTC, among other things, had left her in great shape - it wasn't exactly at the top of her "Fun Stuff" list, either.

_Well, better get going before anything else happens-_

Before she could even finish the words, a car zoomed past. The tires threw up a sheet of ice-cold muddy water that splashed down hard on the twenty-two-year-old. So of course now her purse (and at least half of its contents), her clothes, and her short-cropped auburn hair were dirty and dripping. Her locket was ice-cold against her skin. _Fantastic._

Now thoroughly miserable, Siobhan didn't feel the eyes on her back, watching her trudge down Houghton Road, huddled against the sheeting rain. If she had, and turned around, she wouldn't have seen anything anyway.

The creature watching her, cloaked in what his pal Abe referred to as glamour and Roger himself just called shielding, cocked his head. This girl was one of the ones supposed to help avert the end of the world? _Her?_ She barely came up to his chest. She walked like a soldier, true - he'd picked up on that stance quick enough from Myers and Daimio - but she was still… what? Five-four, maybe? Roger shook his head. There was no way he'd be able to convince the BPRD that girl was legit.

What was he supposed to tell the Darkness? Or would it even ask?

**.**

_In another place outside of time…_

The phantom shadow shivered and plucked the black silken thread that anchored the magical circle. Something was breathing, out there in the midnight dark beyond the world. Something shuddered and strained at the bonds of the world, trying to break through. The phantom could feel whatever the thing was struggling against the wards the other shadow creatures had placed to keep it bound. If it managed to break through, things wouldn't go well for either side of the coming war.

_That is why we seek beyond the world for our hope,_the creature thought. Plucked the thread again to shift the vision from the cold, empty expanse of darkest space to something vibrant with life. A desert monsoon. Another world beyond the one the phantom guarded. A somewhat short young woman in her twenties trudged through the downpour, followed discreetly by a figure shrouded in stereotypical trench coat and fedora - Roger. The homunculus would ensure the girl made it home safely before having to return to his own world; even the phantom's power had limits, and Roger was not a soul from this world. _Without their aid, the war will never happen. Everything will be obliterated long before the first battle begins._

*There are others who could be called,* a sepulchral voice crooned from the dark. The ghostly shadow lifted what, on another creature, would have been its head. Studied the visitor that glided forward as smoothly as a serpent. *They are not our only hope. Is it wise to risk so much on three humans who lack any powers or mythic blood? Especially with one of them so badly damaged?*

"I have studied the webs and visions," the phantom replied. Stroked the different threads that bound the vision. "They have the most chance... and the least. Everything balances on the edge of their knife, and hope is shielded by their loyalty."

*They're humans,* that eldritch voice reminded. *They do not understand loyalty.*

"The warrior's heart belongs to the healer. They are sisters in all but blood, and loyal to each other. And the healer... she understands loyalty, and fealty. Surrender, and service. She is not a fighter, this human girl, but she defends and protects in ways few others can."

*What about the damage?*

The phantom sighed. "It will be hard for her because of the damage. Her mind is still intact but she has difficulty with many things. However, the damage done may be what will stay his hand long enough for the healer to reach him. That is why I have chosen this one out of all the other possible lost ones. She is the only one with a broken mind. The warrior and the bard know that mind as if it were their own - she will be taken care of."

*Are you sure of them, then?*

Where eyes should have been were only hollow pits of shadow. Nevertheless, they studied the dual vision that shimmered in the dark circle: a confident warrior striding through the icy maelstrom and a broken healer warily eyeing the brewing storm behind fragile glass. Human, yet other. Souls born to the wrong world, fitted to the wrong skins. There were so many so cursed - or blessed. So many who heard the echoes of whispers saying they were strangers in a strange land. Never belonging, but cursed to remain anyway. So many. Thousands.

These three... they could do what needed to be done. Yet the living darkness had spoken truth: it wasn't wise to risk so much - the world - on three humans who were so young and inexperienced. Three mortals with no magic, no power. Two girls and a young man who could so easily be overwhelmed by the magnitude of what was being asked of them. Perhaps better to choose others. Older, stronger, wiser men or women with hearts of the other worlds. Many of them could be bound by the magic of kinship.

But the healer's damaged mind and soul would never mend if she weren't chosen. The broken mind could never truly be fixed, but the soul? If that soul didn't mend, the warrior and the bard would never be able to live their own lives. They would be chained to the other one's side until death. It was just as much for them as the looming threat itself that the otherworldly being had chosen these three.

"Anung un Rama will protect them, if _he_ won't. The one who protected the Son of the Fallen One for all those years has told me as much. The one called Hellboy is still on the proper path; he hasn't yet succumbed to his supposed destiny. He'll keep them safe and help them do what's needed."

*Show the healer what lies beyond the heart of the beast,* the darkness commanded after a moment. If the phantom creature had had a face with which to show surprise, it would have. The vision forgotten, it stared at its master in shocked silence. *Not completely. But her heart must be freely and completely given, or neither the healer nor her warrior, nor even the bard, will live to see the dawn. Show her what must be shown to win her loyalty. Make sure she can understand.*

The heart of midnight turned and walked back into the dark as its servant murmured, "As you wish."

**.**

_Tucson, AZ  
>6:45PM<em>

_If we were in the Twelve Kingdoms, this would be a_shōkū_,_Aisling thought as she peered through the blinds at the rain pounding the dust and asphalt. One hand absently rubbed across the gold locket around her neck. _A world-shifting storm._But there was no such thing. Geoff had told her lots of times that things in books and movies weren't real (like she needed reminding). This was just a particularly nasty thunderstorm throwing a tantrum because the monsoon season was almost over. _That's why the tree across the street got struck by lightning,_she told herself. Then, almost as if the thought were afraid to form, she wondered, _Where's Siobhan?_

Aisling pulled off her glasses and began to nervously clean the lenses with the hem of her baggy shirt. It was after four-thirty and her "sister" still wasn't back yet. A shiver raced up her spine. Why couldn't Siobhan hurry up and come home? Then Aisling wouldn't be alone anymore. Then she wouldn't feel like she was drowning in thick dark cold stuff and feeling like she couldn't breathe.

She didn't like the rain. No, not a bit. Didn't like scary thunderstorms that made the windows rattle and the lights go out so it was dark and scary like... like _before_. But Aisling didn't like to think about before any more than she liked to think about storms. Before was scary. Before was bad. It was part of the big bad dark wild thing that had happened. Siobhan had said she didn't have to talk or think about before if she didn't want to, which she didn't because it was really scary and made her feel like she was drowning again.

_"You have to understand my position,"_Aisling remembered from _The Labyrinth_. She wished hard for her best friend. _"I'm a coward." And a whole lot of stuff scares me._ _But at least dinner's ready,_she thought, replacing her glasses.

As soon as her vision refocused, she froze. Beyond the protecting wall of window glass, beyond the sheets of silvery rain knifing through the gray, was a moon-white coyote. Her jaw went slack as the desert canine took a few trotting steps closer. Aisling blinked. Whipped off her glasses again and rubbed her disbelieving eyes. A white coyote in a thunderstorm. Just like the dream she had almost every night. The dream Siobhan had too.

But it couldn't be. Coyotes weren't white, for one thing. They were the color of sand, like the desert floor between mesquite trees. Unless the coyote was albino. But that wasn't right either. Albino animals had red or pink eyes. She knew that from... from... she'd learned it somewhere. From TV? But this thing's eyes were the color of molten copper. Pretty. Entrancing. They made her tummy flip around until she almost felt queasy.

And they burned. Like a hot knife straight to her heart, that copper gaze burned. The coyote kept its gaze locked on her face as it trotted forward. Aisling shivered as it loped across the gravel road and into her dusty front yard as if following a hidden trail. With none of the normal caution of a wild animal, the coyote walked right up to the window.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Copper eyes locked with glass-green. She saw the wildness, the feral otherness in that animal gaze. Shivered again. But she wasn't scared, and she couldn't look away. Could only continue to stare into those eyes.

_It isn't real, little healer._A voice like deep currents in black water. It whispered in her head, echoed until her insides throbbed and her teeth ached. The saliva dried in Aisling's mouth and that first whisper of fear slithered down her spine as that eldritch voice rasped, _This is merely a symbol. An image your human mind can process. Do you see what lies within the beast? Can you see it?_

"You're not real," Aisling croaked at the voice.

Who heard voices in their heads, anyway? Schizophrenics. Whack jobs. Crazy people. But they didn't know the voices weren't really there. She did. Of course it wasn't there. So she wasn't - couldn't be - crazy. Right? Maybe it was from the Break. That was how she always thought about it - the Break, with a capital B. The thing that had made her damaged. The wild bad thing that still woke her up screaming at night.

Her fingers reached up to touch the back of her head. Was it from the Break? But the Break had happened a long, long time ago. Before. And she wasn't broken anymore! Damaged but not broken. That's what Geoff and Siobhan always told her - damaged but not broken. But if she was hearing voices that weren't really there didn't that mean she really _was_ broken? And doctors couldn't fix broken people! You could fix broken things but not broken people!

"I'm not hearing voices. I'm _not_ hearing voices." She backed away from the window, but the white coyote stayed where it was. Continued staring at her. "And you're not real, either. Nope. Nuh-uh."

_Do not be afraid of what lies outside your experience,_the voice murmured gently. _Accept, and move past it._

"I'm not going crazy," Aisling moaned, "I'm not crazy, I'm not broken, just damaged, not broken, I'm not crazy!" She half-squeaked, half-screamed when the coyote threw back its head and howled. After the initial scare, the familiar sound of coyote song actually soothed the panic building inside her. She'd lived in the desert since she was little, too little to go to school or do anything grown-up. Coyote song had always helped her sleep. The yipping, playful howling made her feel safe. Pushed back the scary feeling in her tummy until she could breathe.

_Okay, let's be rational about this. I'm not going crazy,_she thought. _Maybe I ate some bad bread. Bad bread can make you see things. Or I had the cap off my Sharpie too long and got high on accident. Something like that. There's no coyote. No voice. Nothing. Just the stupid rain._

_You are a very frustrating child,_the voice grumbled. The coyote howled again. Aisling tore off her glasses. Squeezed her eyes shut. Clapped her hands over her ears.

"I'm gonna count to three," she mumbled frantically, shaking now. _Siobhan, Geoff, I'm scared._ "And everything will be gone. I'm dreaming. Seeing things. Whatever. I'm not crazy. Not broken. Damaged. Not broken. Count to three and it'll be over. All over. One. Two. Three."

She opened her eyes and put on her glasses. The coyote was gone. Her heart began to slow from the gallop it had kicked into, and her breathing started to even out. Then the front door slammed open. She screamed bloody murder.

"Will you freaking relax?" Siobhan yelled over the noise, shaking out her sopping wet mop of auburn hair on the linoleum. "It's just me."

"Oh." Relief was so strong it nearly swept Aisling's feet out from under her. Never mind that her best friend was dripping dirty water all over the nice, clean entryway floor, which was bad because Geoff said never to do that. Right then, Aisling was so glad to see her that the twenty-one-year-old rushed over and threw her arms around the older girl, uncaring of the muddy water soaking into her clothes. "Siobhan, I've got a whole lot of stuff to tell you and it was scary and I think I'm broken." As an afterthought, she added a little more calmly, "And dinner's ready."

With a colossal _BOOM!_ of thunder, the power went out.

**.**

*Stubborn human child,* the heart of shadow growled, staring down with eyes the color of dusty bones at the new vision-circle slowly beginning to shimmer with fresh dark power. *Why is it that when they brush against the unknown, they always assume themselves mad?* To the phantom, the living darkness snarled, *This isn't going to work. The damage has made the healer too timid. She is afraid to see what's right before her face.*

"That is why she's with the warrior and the bard."

*The _warrior_is not the one who must find her courage! She has it. In spades. She is almost suicidal with it! And the bard mayn't even be needed for this! It's the healer whose loyalty must be strong as steel. If she is a coward, how can she hope to prove herself to _him_? To any of them? How will any of them, warrior or bard or healer, prevent the final battle? How is a mentally damaged girl-child supposed to be of any use to us?*

The breathing shadow thought of the shuddering blackness from beyond the borders of the world. The malevolent thing slavering for destruction. There were four paths now. Only four… and all but one guaranteed failure. Both the phantom and its master had seen those four paths in the visions shown within the ensorcelled circles, though in archetypes and symbols, not in real-world images: the moon stained with blood before being shrouded by dark clouds; a marble statue of a horned demon shattered to pieces and sinking into black tar; a bleeding rose burning with sulfuric fires before a shroud of midnight extinguished the flame.

And finally, the very last vision, that which had sent the phantom creature searching the worlds for those whose souls cried out for other places - molten gold and silver mingling like blood upon red stone, so hot the metals burned with the flames of Sheol, driving away the darkness. The silver had flowed like blood from an ugly, cracked stone cup whose inner rim was studded with glittering tiger's eye, amethyst, and agate. The gold had dripped like blood from a cracked ebony sword whose gold-embossed hilt was wrapped by bloodstone beads; neither wood nor bloodstone melted or caught fire from the heat.

None of the visions had said how to direct the world toward the path they desired. Only the further visionary work of the living Dark had shown them what exactly they were looking for: a warrior and a healer. Two souls out of place. Joined together by love. As for these two specifically... the phantom had chosen them. Not because of vision or prophecy, or even because they were the best for the job. It didn't know why it chose a pair of girls barely into womanhood. Only that they had the best chance.

Its master didn't believe. Didn't have faith that three foolish human children could change anything. Yet the shadow phantom was sure. The bard and warrior's lives revolved around the healer. And the healer... her life yearned for the one she could serve, though walls of scars and jagged bone and oceans of blood stood in the way of her realizing it. All she had to do was meet eyes of molten gold for a brief moment and the kinship would take. The phantom knew what all three of these mortals needed and what they would bring to the battle. And, as it said, "I've never been wrong before, master."

*There's a first time for everything. What is that?* The darkness pointed a shadowy claw at the vision circle, at the vibrations radiating through the black threads. *What are those?*

"An impossibility," the phantom hissed. The hollow sockets of its eyes blazed with black fire. "The Creeper had a hand in this, I'm sure. The witchstorm has already begun, but there is not enough power to bring Roger back. The healer and the warrior are not the first things to pass through the storm."

*Then what is?* Darkness demanded. A ghostly hand touched a vibrating thread of magic. When it finally spoke, even its master shuddered at the hatred burning in the midnight voice.

_"Night gaunts."_

**.**

_New York City, NY  
>7:55 PM<em>

The night air tasted strange.

Even as he realized this, Prince Nuada Silverlance slowly made his way up the side of the rain-slicked brick wall of Blackwood's Auction House. Each raindrop was a toxic needle of liquid ice driving toward the putrid city below. Humans. Look what they had done to the world. Even the life-giving rain was now saturated with mortal poisons. The very air of this city had long been a poisonous fume to the Fair Folk.

But this was different. Beneath the burning stink of human metals and the acid of their airborne toxins, there was the scent of darkness. Not the dark that should be feared because it hid the monsters out of nightmare and legend. No, this darkness was to be feared for its very own self. This was the Living Darkness that had so long breathed beneath Faerie. The Living Darkness that had always seemed to be biding its time, waiting for something to change, waiting for the first domino to fall in the final confrontation between the fae and humans. Nuada was going to push that domino over tonight. He would make the first move in so many centuries.

When he did, what would happen then? The prince wasn't entirely sure. He knew what _he_ meant to do. He would go to his father, the One-Armed King of Elfland, and explain to Balor why this had to be done. Why the humans had to be exterminated. Why the truce could no longer hold. But Nuada didn't know what his father would do.

And he didn't know what it meant that for the first time in thousands of years the Living Darkness from beneath Faerie was out in the mortal world, feeding off the putrescent night. Or if the glittering scent of deep magic even had anything to do with tonight. Was this some sort of omen? If so, then for good or ill? Nuada couldn't let that matter. For his people, for the sake of the fae, he had to press onward. Tonight the war would begin again. He and Wink had to be ready.

_I'm sorry, Father,_ he thought, then shoved away any and all thoughts not connected to this mission.

Quickly scaling the four stories of brickwork, he made it to the large window he'd preselected during his earlier reconnaissance, peering inside at the human whose only task seemed to be glancing occasionally at the various artifacts laid out on the table before him and placing check marks on a list.

Feral topaz eyes alighted on a medium-sized placard resting on the table. In front of the placard was an open case lined with black velvet. On that velvet gleamed a familiar bar of yellow gold carved with symbols from the Goblin Tongue.

Dark lips curved into a satisfied smile. "Treasures of Pre-Christian Europe," indeed.

**.**

"I wouldn't worry about the voices thing," Siobhan splatted around a mouthful of four-cheese lasagna. Usually _she_was the one to cook (she'd been the one to make this, actually), but since it was Tuesday, Siobhan had to re-oil her _katana_ (she had _īaidō_ class at the U of A every Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning, a necessary step to passing the first semester of postgraduate school) and didn't have time to fix dinner. Aisling had had the common sense to reheat heaping portions of yesterday's lasagna just in time for the twenty-two-year-old to get home.

Now Aisling glanced at her friend's face, shadowed by the flickering candlelights they'd set up against the severe darkness. "Really?"

"You've got a seriously active imagination, sweetheart," Siobhan said, swallowing and shrugging. She forked up another bite and popped it into her mouth. "So no, I wouldn't worry. You used to see things all the time when we were kids, and those weren't real, either."

"Yeah, I was doped up on Aterol, too," the other girl replied a little waspishly, offering a brief glimpse of what she used to be when she added, "That's what Aterol does. Side-effect. I'm not taking any meds now."

"Seriously," Siobhan said sharply. Aisling sighed and took a bite of her own lasagna, generously sprinkled with extra mozzarella and parmesan. The older girl studied her friend for a long moment before she said a bit more gently, "I'm being totally serious. If it doesn't happen again, don't worry about it. Sometimes stress, lack of sleep, whatever, can make you hallucinate. So can the heat. That's happened to us lots of times. I'm really not worried, okay? As long as it doesn't recur, don't sweat it."

"What if I have a brain tumor?" The twenty-one-year-old hunched her shoulders inside the baggy black sweater. She was regular Aisling again. "Or cranial hemorrhaging? What if the Break is splitting open again because of some weird thing and I-"

"Eat your flippin' lasagna already," Siobhan cried, exasperated. "Do you have a headache? No? Good, you're fine. Now, wanna watch a movie on our portable DVD player? The battery's charged for the next, like, five hours. Will that make you feel better?"

Aisling thought about this for a long minute. Movies made everything better. She'd watched a lot of movies with Siobhan after waking up after the Break. So she nodded slowly, then proceeded to stuff her face while Siobhan popped _Hellboy II_into the portable player. It was currently the younger girl's favorite movie, mostly because of Ron Perlman. Ever since seeing _Beauty and the Beast_as a kid, Aisling's fangirl heart had belonged to Ron ever after. The only exceptions were when he played a villain. She especially liked the _Hellboy_ films because "Red was funny-cute. Like a big, goofy demon dog."

As for Siobhan... she didn't much care either way. Although she was in love with faeries, and loved it when they were portrayed as the dangerous creatures they probably were. So the second movie had a special place in _her_heart as well.

"You know... this doesn't make a lot of sense," Aisling mumbled about thirty minutes in.

"Hn?" Siobhan' had been half-asleep a moment ago. From the sound of it, the younger girl was nodding off, too. That's what happened on rainy nights. Especially after a good soaking followed by getting toasty warm from delicious, hot food. "Waddya mean?"

"Plot holes. Like, three plot holes. In a movie." Sounding drunk, the twenty-one-year-old shook her head. "Too many."

"Hn. Yeah. Liz should've melted the crown piece to begin with."

"'Zackly," Aisling slurred. "But then... there'd be no movie. But still... melt the stupid thing. Yeah."

Halfway through the movie, Aisling dropped off to sleep curled up in the ratty but clean armchair they'd salvaged months ago from the city dump. Her glasses slipped off the end of her nose and hit the carpet with a light _thump_. Siobhan smiled and reached over to pick them up and put them on the coffee table. Aisling always forgot to take off her glasses before falling asleep. One of these days they were gonna end up breaking.

Turning off the movie took seconds. Then the twenty-two-year-old stretched out on the couch to let sleep claim her, too. It didn't take long.

In the darkness outside the little house, something crept close. Closer.

Something _hungry_.

**.**

_She stood on the sand, lightning spearing the sky to electric brilliance with white fire. Black clouds boiled overhead. The air hung like a shroud, heavy with rain. The white coyote stood not ten feet away, copper eyes intent on the woman in front of it._

Healer and warrior and bard, _a voice breathed across the sere desert sand._ Warrior and bard and healer. He will need you in the end. Accept him.

_"Who is he?"_

He is sorrow. Loneliness. Strength. Darkness. Pain. Rage. Will you accept him?

_She looked around, scanning the empty horizon. No mesquite or acacia trees bent in the stinging wind. Only sand kicked up in the face of the brewing gale. Her hair whipped into her face, but she ignored it as she ignored the wind wrenching at her clothes. She focused instead on that copper gaze. Was the coyote the one talking? Or was he the one being talked about?_

_Kneeling, she stretched out a hand to him. He bared his teeth and she snatched her hand back as he tried to snap at her. "I don't think_he _accepts_me."

It will take time. Extraordinary patience. You must accept him for you to heal his soul wounds. You will heal each other. Will you accept?

_"What am I accepting, exactly?"_

To be loyal to him. Loyal until death, no matter what he asks of you. No matter what he does, no matter his sins, no matter the blood on his hands. You must be loyal to him, and you must love him unconditionally, and you must be willing to sacrifice anything and everything. If you falter, everything will shatter. It will all end. There are no second chances. And you must know that even if you do everything right, you still may fail.

_"Who... who are you talking about?" There was no way she could agree to this. She didn't even know who the voice from the desert meant. What if it was some kind of homicidal cult leader or something? What if this was a weird brainwashing technique and she'd been kidnapped by cultists? And yet... there was something in the words. A sliver of recognition. A pull at the deepest part of her. Something shivered beneath her skin and she felt the first drops of rain splash her shoulders, the back of her neck, her hair. Rain as cool as the ocean and clean as winter snow._

Someone who needs to be healed.

_Not knowing where the words came from, she whispered, "Then I will heal him... if I can. I accept him."_

It is final. You accept, and so do we.

_Lightning ripped open the black clouds and cool, soothing rain descended, almost a mist. A carefree joy filled her, and she threw back her head and laughed, tasting the rain. Tasting the wildness of the world._

_Thunder boomed..._

**.**

Aisling's shrill scream wrenched Siobhan from her dream and flung her back to waking right before she hit the floor. Stunned, she blinked up at the ceiling, wondering why it was so dark. Then she remembered: power outage. Falling asleep. Candles... candles? Bolting upright, the twenty-two-year-old looked around. Saw the candles had tipped over. The flames guttered in thick spills of multicolored wax. Most of those tiny flames had already been snuffed out by the choking wax.

The blinds lay on the floor, mired in wax and glittering shards of broken glass. Rain poured in through the shattered window. Wind howled in the darkness beyond. Deep in that stormy darkness, something chittered and growled. The last of the dying candlelight reflected on something shiny as insect eyes in the night.

_"Siobhan!"_

"Aisling, get away from the window!" Springing to her feet, Siobhan vaulted the coffee table. Grabbing the first thing that came to hand (a downed blind), she swung it at the hulking shadow lunging through the window toward her best friend. It slapped against unprotected flesh. Whatever she hit shrieked in outrage. A hand that glinted in the fading light like snake scales wrenched the feeble weapon from Siobhan's grasp. It reached for her...

Aisling brought the handle of the broom smashing down on the outstretched hand with a sickening smack and the _crack_ of breaking wood - or bone. Then she grabbed Siobhan and yanked her backwards. "Come on!"

"What the heck is that?" Siobhan yelled, pounding through the kitchen toward the back door. "That's not a person!" That faceless horror with skin like chitinous insect armor couldn't possibly be a human being. No costume, not even in a movie, looked that real.

"Don't know," the younger girl cried. Skidding to a halt along the water-slick kitchen tile, she gasped. "Another one!"

Aisling whirled around to run. Slipped on the water pooling on the floor. Hit the tile hard enough to knock the wind out of her. The back of her head cracked hard on linoleum and she froze in absolute panic. Siobhan reached down to grab her as the faceless monster in the doorway reached for them both. A slimy hand smelling of rotting garbage snagged a fistful of Aisling's sweater. The green-eyed girl lashed out with a hysterical shriek and caught the thing in the knees with her flailing feet. It staggered back but didn't release her. Siobhan sucked in a whistling breath and body-slammed the thing, knocking it back. Its grip loosened. Aisling smacked its wrist with both fists. Scrambled out of the loose hold and to her feet.

Siobhan hauled herself up, kicking at the monster trying to grab her, and shoved her friend toward the stairs. If they could get to the second-story window with the little balcony, then up to the roof, maybe they'd be safe.

"Run," Siobhan gasped, pushing Aisling up the stairs. Fear was a choking, clawing thing inside her gut. Snarling at the fear was anger. It burned just under her skin as she kept shouting encouragement at scrawny Aisling to get up the steps. "My room!" Siobhan panted. Staggered down the hall, keeping between the younger girl and the monsters. "Balcony!"

Shambling scuffling noises on the steps made them both glance over their shoulders. The faceless creatures were crawling up the stairs, scuttling like four-legged crabs made of rotting flesh and garbage. Those eyeless, faceless heads turned in the girls' direction. A chittering hissing sound echoed off the walls.

"Run!" Siobhan shrieked.

"Siobhan! Aisling!" A man's voice, frantic, jerked them both to an unwilling halt. Aisling raced over to the stair rails and looked down to see their roommate, Geoff, staring with wide eyes at the monsters on the staircase. He was soaked and shivering. White with shock. But he was already reaching for the shovel they kept by the front door to deal with rattlesnakes.

"Geoff!" Aisling yelped, waving her arms. "Run away! Monsters!"

"Hang on, you guys, I'm coming!" He hefted the medium-sized spade and ran forward.

"Geoff, no!" Siobhan snapped, grabbing Aisling and hauling her away from the monsters. "Run! Get out of here!" And then she didn't have time to think of their roommate anymore because the faceless creatures were at the landing. Dragging her "sister" down the hall again, the twenty-two-year-old yanked her into the bedroom and slammed and locked the door. How long it would take the monsters to bust through, she didn't know. Didn't care, either, as long as it wasn't instantaneously. They needed two minutes, max. Racing to the weapons' rack against the wall, Siobhan picked up her _katana_ and shoved it into Aisling's hands. "Hold that!"

"What about Geoff?" Aisling cried.

_What about Geoff?_Siobhan fought the sting of tears as she grabbed her _tantō_and strapped the two Japanese knives in place. She'd gone to high school with Geoff. He'd been in her platoon all eight years of Marine JROTC and ROTC. Helped her put together a course of study when she decided she wanted to major in Japanese weaponry. Her prized weapons were all gifts from him. And those... those _things_out there could kill him. The only person she cared about more than the twenty-two-year-old aspiring Marine officer was Aisling. But there was no way they could get from her bedroom to Geoff and back to safety without Aisling getting hurt.

"He can take care of himself," Siobhan replied, and grabbed hers and Aisling's purses and dumped them out on the floor. There was the faintest scrabbling noises on the other side of the door and the squelchy thwacking sounds of sharp metal pounding flesh. Geoff wasn't dead yet, at least. Dropping to the floor, Siobhan snatched up two cans of defensive spray and hooked them both onto the belt loops on Aisling's black denim skirt. Then the twenty-two-year-old grabbed her _kūbōtan_ and hooked that onto a belt loop on her own jeans.

"Out the window."

They managed to squeeze through the window onto the purely decorative "balcony." Siobhan knelt and cupped her hands to give Aisling a leg up onto the roof. The ceramic shingles were slick with rain. The younger girl slipped and sliced a deep cut across her palm from a broken shingle, but kept crawling over the wet roof to the peak of the house. The rough shingles shredded the knees of her tights. Siobhan climbed up after her and shivered as thunder boomed and the rain soaked them.

"What if we fall?" Aisling cried, clinging to her friend.

"Then we're probably gonna die," Siobhan yelled over the sheeting rain. "But if we stay down there, there's no probably - we _will_die!"

Aisling couldn't see anything beyond the sheets of driving rain smashing down on them, sharp as needles. She clutched Siobhan's _katana_ awkwardly and tried to maintain her balance in the blasting wind. The slice across her palm burned under the rain. Her side ached from the collision with the kitchen floor. Hot pain throbbed like a toothache through her skull. Siobhan was a little better - just some scrapes from climbing over the shingles.

"They were monsters, weren't they? Those were monsters!"

"I don't know," Siobhan shouted. "I don't _care,_either! As long as they- crap!" She reached for one of the _tantō_ strapped to her body as soon as pale hands came into view at the edge of the roof. She froze at Aisling's cry when a head poked up over the side. "Geoff! You're alive!"

"Barely! Pull me up!" Both girls helped haul him half onto the roof. Then several things happened in quick succession.

An inhuman roar from within the house made Geoff's foot slip on the rain-slicked stucco wall. A bolt of lightning smashed down on the metal rod sticking up from the roof. Aisling squeaked and slipped, sliding across the sloped tiles to hit the rain gutter hard enough to dislodge it from the house. Siobhan grabbed at the younger girl's flailing hands and managed to catch hold of her for a split second before gravity wrenched her out of the other girl's desperate grip. _No!_Geoff lost his footing as another lightning bolt struck the house. He slipped from Siobhan's other hand with a hoarse cry, but not before he yanked her with him over the edge of the roof and into the darkness below.

All three hurtled toward the ground. Just when Aisling knew she was going to hit desert rock, she heard the lyrical howling of a coyote and the world went black.

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_**Author's Note:**_ _okay... I don't know. What do you guys think? This is the first time I've dealt with more than one MC at a time since getting (if I say so myself) good at writing. So I'm not sure how it's working. First time I've collaborated, as well, so am uneasy about_that. _Also, I've never written from the point of view of anyone who was mentally handicapped in any way. Hopefully that's working well, too. If so (or if not), I'd like to know. In fact, I'd like to know how you guys feel about everything right now. Hopefully you're enjoying the fic. I loves you all! Hope you enjoy the next chapter. Yay, new chapters! Woot!_

_Bye-bye._

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_**References Made in This Chapter**_

_(Oh, gee, this looks familiar, lol)_

- JROTC is Junior Recruit Officer Training Corp. It's the high school version of ROTC. You get military training as if you were in basic training, except instead of it lasting 6-12 weeks, it lasts the entire school year. By the time someone gets out of JROTC, they are probably 1/3 of the way to being a jarhead (to quote my brothers, one of whom was a Marine and the other of whom went to an army-style military school for a year). Once out of high school and into college, you can join the ROTC. Once you get out of ROTC, I believe you can join the military, go through basic training, and pop out an officer (though I might be wrong about that part). So yeah - someone who's gone through JROTC is a tough cookie.

- In the anime/book series _The Twelve Kingdoms_, the mystical storms known as shōkū are literally typhoon-like portals between our world and the world of the Twelve Kingdoms. They usually occur naturally, but can also be initiated by a kīrīn or another high-ranking government official in that world.

- The conversation Aisling partially quotes is from Jim Henson's _The Labyrinth_. It goes, "You have to understand my position. I'm a coward, and Jareth scares me." The MC goes, "What kind of position is that?" "No position! That's my point!"

- I don't know if moldy bread can make you hallucinate, but moldy grain can. Never eat moldy rye or wheat or anything like that. It's SO dangerous.

- Night gaunts are these faceless, creepy flesh-eating monsters from HP Lovecraft's works. Since _Hellboy_draws quite heavily on his mythos, I figured it was a safe bet to use them.

- _Īaidō_is the Japanese martial art that is very much based around the use of the sword. A _katana_is one kind of Japanese sword. Since Siobhan takes īaidō classes at the university, she would have her own practice weapon as well as an edged or live steel weapon. Katanas are often oiled (I believe to keep them from rusting - I talked to a guy at a weapons shop about it).

- It was recommended to me by people when I first got my own place that I get a shovel in case a rattlesnake ever tried to get between me and something, seeing as how rattlers are poisonous as crud and often deadly. I unfortunately don't have a shovel, but I _do_have an upper-story apartment, so no worries.

- _Tantō_are one of the two traditional types of smaller blades worn with a _katana_(the other being the _wakazashi_). Siobhan has all three types of blades, but only had time to grab her _tantō_and _katana_(as well as her _kūbōtan_, which is a specially-made defensive keychain). Besides, having a long sword and a short sword as well as two knives strapped to you while climbing out a window is pretty hard to do.


	3. Lost and Found

_**Author's Note:**__Okay! And here we go with chapter 2. Hope you all enjoy. Hope we're doing a good job so far. *crosses fingers* I hope, I hope, I hope._

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**Chapter Two**  
><strong>Lost and Found<strong>

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_9:26 PM  
>Somewhere strange and new…<em>

Aisling jerked to wakefulness when something hard and cold skittered over her hand. Jolting upright, she choked on a scream and shook off the cockroach that was still making its way across her skin. The girl was on her feet in an instant. Frantically the twenty-one-year-old ran both hands over her hair and body, trying not to scream again as a few more roaches went flying. Oh, gross, oh, gross, oh, _gross_! Roaches, she hated roaches!

_At least_, she thought when she was certain there were no more insects clinging to her baggy sweater or poofy tulle overskirt, _they weren't in my hair_. Aisling shuddered at the thought of roaches in her hair. Then she took a good look around and felt her stomach drop into her shoes.

She had no idea whatsoever where she was.

Glancing up to gauge the stars gave her vertigo because _there__were__no__stars_. The night sky was obscured by steam and smog. Instead of the deep velvety black she was used to, the starless night was a noxious soupy brown highlighted by the same pink found in cat vomit and the sienna of burnt pumpkin mush. Instead of the song of coyotes and the rumbling-shush of traffic, there was a cacophony of sounds that made pain splinter through her skull: howling police sirens, the shrieking of buses, people yelling for taxis, the yapping of lapdogs and the deeper barking of strays, the mindless noise of busy streets crowded with too many pedestrians. None of the buildings looked in any way familiar. The street sign at the mouth of the alley she was in said Broadway, but this wasn't the Broadway she knew. The house she shared with Geoff and Siobhan was gone as well.

There was only Aisling, huddled against the dripping rain that had none of the monsoon's playful bite or subtle warmth, her black tights ripped to show scraped and bleeding knees, her head throbbing and one hand still bleeding sluggishly from the slice from the roof shingle. She grabbed a fistful of sopping wet sweater to soak up the blood. Hopefully it would stop soon.

Her black and green Vans squelched as she stepped out of the alley onto the sidewalk and looked around. People milled everywhere. Electronic marquees and billboards destroyed the dark that should've held sway now that the sun was down. There was no comforting scent of sun-baked creosote or sahauro. No warmth in the concrete under her shoes. No warmth in the people, either. They all hunched under their umbrellas and scurried to their destinations, just like the roaches she'd sent running.

_Siobhan, I'm scared,_ Aisling thought. She had no idea what to do. She hadn't been out of Arizona since she was four years old. Before that she'd lived in Nebraska (which she barely remembered at all except in little random bits, like getting _Beauty and the Beast_ snowshoes at age three, or the time she'd dressed up as Catwoman from the Tim Burton _Batman_ film for her preschool Halloween party). This didn't look like either of the little towns she'd lived in before. The twenty-one-year-old didn't know much about places other than Tucson and Omaha, but she knew enough to know this: she wasn't in Vail, the Tucson suburb where she lived, and she was in a major city.

_Not just a big city_, she thought with no small amount of panic. _A major city, like LA or New York_. Aisling could tell because of that horribly nauseating sky. She'd been to London on a school trip once. London was also a major city and it had possessed that same vertigo-inducing, starless night sky wrecked by light pollution and smog. And Aisling knew she was still in America because most of the people on the street who were bothering to talk had no British accents and she couldn't think of any other country that would have advertisements in English.

That didn't make her feel better. In order to find out where she was, she'd have to _ask_ someone. She didn't want to do that. Didn't want to have to approach a complete stranger and let them look at her. She wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. _Siobhan said_ she wasn't supposed to talk to strangers. And she'd have to find the words to ask the right questions but she didn't know what they were and Siobhan _said_...

Tears pricked her eyes at the thoughts whipping through her mind but Aisling knew if she started crying now she'd break down, fall to the rain-slick concrete, and ask someone to squish her like a bug.

"Excuse me, Miss," a voice said from behind her. Aisling nearly choked on a breathless shriek and spun around. She almost burst into tears when her eyes registered that she was looking at a _man_, maybe ten years older than she was, in a dark suit and white shirt with a tie. He looked friendly enough but she couldn't tell for sure because there was a thick crack running through one of her glasses lenses. "Are you all right?"

Special Agent John Myers stared down at the girl who looked up at him with teary eyes the same color green as classic Coke-a-Cola glass. Rain soaked her black sweater and plastered blond hair to her face. She looked like someone had taken one of those delicate porcelain dolls, dumped it in a mishmash of various street clothes, and then dropped it off a cliff or something. Scrapes marred her cheek and the bridge of her nose, and she held herself like she was hurt. Or just terrified. Every instinct came roaring to the surface as he met her eyes. This kid needed some help.

"Are you in trouble?" John asked gently. She flinched away from him. Straining to put kindness in his voice, he asked, "Do you need help?"

"I... I'm not supposed to talk to strangers," she quavered.

A young child's response. He couldn't gauge the kid's age because her clothes were so baggy and she was so hunched up, but she looked to be at least sixteen. Her voice was younger, though, and so was her reaction. And there was a dull sort of fuzziness in her eyes that made him think she wasn't quite right. Was she mentally handicapped?

Whatever she was, the kid needed some help. Ah, what the heck? A badge might make the kid feel better. He pulled out his wallet and flipped it open to show her his federal shield. "I work with the FBI, Miss. Do you know who the FBI is?" When she nodded, John relaxed a little. "So you can talk to me, right?"

The kid nodded slowly again. "You're like the police. Big police. I... I don't know... I don't know where I am." The girl's face crumpled for a minute before she burst into hysterical tears and covered her face with her hands. "I don't know what city this is or _anything_. I was with my friends and I don't know where they are. I don't know what happened." Sniffling, she lifted the plastic-framed glasses and scrubbed at her face with one waterlogged sleeve. It didn't do much good. "And I broke my glasses." John realized the left lens of her glasses was cracked right down the middle.

"Okay, calm down," John said, taking her arm. She squeaked and started to wrench away, so he just let her go. "It's okay, Miss. I'm not going to hurt you. I'm FBI, remember? Big police," he added, using her words. "And I know where you are. You're in New York City."

Her eyes widened. More tears leaked out to mingle with the rain. "New York? No. No, I'm not. That's impossible! I was in Arizona..." She trailed off. Scrubbed at her trembling mouth with the back of one scraped and still-bleeding fist. "I was in Arizona before. I don't understand. I'm supposed to be in Arizona. I... I'm really confused." She gazed up at him beseechingly. "I think I'm lost."

"Well, let's help you get un-lost, okay?" Torn between the two theories that this girl was either handicapped or a schizophrenic, John held out his hand. "I'm John. Special Agent John Myers. What's your name, Miss?"

Aisling blinked, positive she'd misheard. "What?"

"What's your name?"

"Um..." Siobhan had said she wasn't supposed to tell strangers her name. But he was a police guy. A big police guy. For the FBI. He was a good guy, right? So it was okay to tell him her name, right? "Aisling. Ay-aye-ess-elle-aye-en-gee. It's Irish. People always think it's pronounced 'ayzling' but it's 'ash-lynn.' I'm really, really cold." He'd said his name was John Myers. Special Agent with the FBI. She knew about the FBI. And for just a second she'd thought... but that was because she'd whacked her head on the linoleum earlier. Because her brain didn't work very well when she was upset, not since the Break. And because she was still a little woozy from that and the fall off the roof.

Thinking about why she and Siobhan had been on the roof in the first place made her shiver. John, thinking she was shivering from the cold and the wet, shrugged out of his suit jacket and managed to wrap it around her narrow shoulders with one hand. Then he held his umbrella over them both. "Here, let's get out of the rain. You hungry? There's this nice little soup-and-sandwich place like, right there." He gestured with one hand to the shop two doors away. Aisling peered through the rain. "It's on me. Free food, right?"

Nodding mutely, she hunched her shoulders and allowed John to lead her to the little shop.

The bell jingled overhead when John opened the door for her. Aisling shivered harder in the sudden warmth of the shop. The older man helped her to a red-vinyl seat near the door and signaled to the waitress cracking her gum and talking to the short-order cook in the kitchen. Then John sat down across from her in the cozy booth. Those glass-green eyes peered at him from between stringy blond hair. That fuzzy dullness in her eyes was more obvious now, like what you saw in a not-too-bright child.

"So your name's Aisling. Got a last name to go with that?"

Aisling folded her hands in her lap and kept her gaze fixated on the white table. She didn't say anything. John raised his eyebrows, inviting a comment. Nothing.

"Where do you live?"

"Vail," she whispered. _Police man,_ she reminded herself. _It's okay. FBI._ "Tucson, Arizona."

He kept his voice gentle and soothing as he asked the kid, "How did you get to New York?"

She flinched and ducked her head. "I don't know," she quavered. Fresh tears rolled silently down her cheeks. "We were on the roof. There was something in the house. It was raining and I slipped. I fell off. I don't remember what happened after that. I woke up in an alley." Well that explained the scrapes and bruises. Scrubbing at her face with the back of her hand, Aisling added in a tremulous voice, "Siobhan says I have to be careful because I have panic attacks and get confused and scared. I'm d-d-damaged, so I get confused sometimes. Do you know what day it is?" She asked suddenly.

"It's Friday, September twenty-sixth," he supplied gently. The girl relaxed a fraction. "Who's Siobhan?"

"My friend," Aisling said. "Like my sister, sort of. She and Geoff live at the house with me and take care of me." Her eyes never left the tabletop, but when the waitress came over, she said, "Can I have the broccoli, ham, and cheddar soup, please? And some hot chocolate?" When John nodded, the waitress left and Aisling continued talking as if she'd never been interrupted. "Siobhan and Geoff keep me safe. Usually. I'm damaged," she repeated mournfully. His puzzlement must have been obvious, because she touched the back of her head with her fingers. "Damaged in here. My... um... the bone. It broke. Now sometimes I forget stuff, or I get scared or confused sometimes. Siobhan and Geoff help me not be."

Pretty sure now that he was talking to someone who'd suffered severe and damaging head trauma, John said gently, "And you don't know where they are. Do you know if they're in the city?" The girl shook her head. Mute misery filled her eyes. "Do you have a place to stay?" Another headshake. Oh, boy. What was he supposed to do with a stray teenager when he didn't even live in this city? But he couldn't just leave her to wander the street, either. She was way too fragile - any idiot could see that. This city would chew her up and spit out the bones. But what to do with her?

"Um... is your middle name Thaddeus?"

John blinked. "Uh, yeah. Why do you ask?"

Aisling stared at him. Actually picked her head up and stared right at him, her glass-green eyes wide and the color slowly draining from her face. Clearly his answer had shocked her. He just wasn't sure why. Thaddeus wasn't _that_ unusual of a name. She didn't say anything else for a long moment. When the waitress brought her hot chocolate with whipped cream, the hand that held the spoon to scoop up the sugary goodness was shaking so hard the metal rattled against the mug. She hastily put the spoon down.

_No freaking way_, Aisling thought. There was no way a man looking like _that_ (and now that she'd gotten a decent eye-full of John Thaddeus Myers, she had to admit he looked a lot like - though not identical to - Rupert Evans, the actor who'd played the young BPRD agent in the first _Hellboy_ film) could have _that_ name. That was crazy. Crazy people were broken. She wasn't broken. But... but...

"Do you... have you ever worked for Squeaky Clean Waste Management?" Aisling managed to whisper. Icy chills shivered through her body and she wasn't sure whether they were from nerves or from the soaking-wet sweater she wore over her t-shirt. She wrapped her ice-cold, trembling hands around the mug of hot chocolate to warm them. John was eyeing her now, and it wasn't an altogether friendly look. What if he didn't like her anymore? What if he got mad at her?

"I did up until about four or five months ago. Why?"

The girl stared at him with something akin to wonder in her eyes. Wonder, and a little fear. "You can't be him. You _can't_ be. That doesn't make sense. You can't be him. But... but your middle name is Thaddeus. Did... did Abe say you were pure of heart?"

"Abe?"

"Abraham Sapien," she said slowly, like a child trying to sound out a difficult word. "Brother Blue."

A shiver went through John at the mention of Abraham Sapien, the psychic fish-man who was one of his closest friends even though John didn't work at BPRD headquarters anymore. How did this girl know about that? How did this girl know _any_ of this? "Who are you?"

"Did Abe say you were pure of heart?" When John nodded slowly, Aisling squeezed her eyes shut and tried not to faint. The blood roared like a waterfall in her ears. She could hear the pounding of her own heart. Feel it bruising her sternum. This wasn't possible. There was just no way. But... how else had she gotten from Arizona to New York in less than half a day? And how was she sitting across from a man who looked so much like John T. Myers, whose name _was_ John Thaddeus Myers, and had worked for Squeaky Clean Waste Management (aka the Bureau of Paranormal Research and Defense)? Unless...

"I'm... I'm in New York City." Aisling was staring at the slowly melting whipped cream floating on top of her hot chocolate. Staring, but not really seeing. "I'm in... but that means... if you're here then that means that Red is here, too. Isn't he? He's somewhere here. New Jersey or... or Connecticut or something. Liz and Red and Abe. Because if you're here then they're here too. But that means..."

_September twenty-sixth._ The day the second movie took place. And she was in New York, where the second movie (mostly) happened. _Happens?_ She wondered. The forest elemental would attack here. The tooth fairies would be unleashed here. Today. Tonight. And Siobhan and Geoff... were they out there? Out somewhere in the city? Did either of them know just where they were? And how had any of them even gotten here?

_If we were in the Twelve Kingdoms, this would be a__shōkū__,_Aisling remembered thinking about the monsoon brewing earlier that day. _Shōkū._ A world-shifting storm. A preternatural phenomenon that opened doorways between worlds. Geoff said there was no such thing, but what if there really were? Other worlds, portals to them, and events that could rip them open and shove people through? What if there was? What if, what if, what if... _Siobhan, I'm really freaking out here._

"How do you know all of this?" John demanded in a low voice. There was no friendly concern anymore. Only cold suspicion.

"I... I'm..." _From a world where this is just a story,_ she thought with no little hysteria. This was impossible! But, she thought, so were those freaky monsters that had broken through the living room window and tried to kill her and Siobhan. What was she supposed to say to John? What could she say that he would believe? Well, he knew Red and Abe. What could possibly be beyond his comprehension? He believed in all kinds of things. Just like her. "I'm... I'm..." What was the word? She could remember the stupid word but couldn't get it to her tongue. Greece. Delphi. She'd learned about it before. In school. How was the stupid word pronounced? "I'm..."

Pale green eyes flicked to the little basket on the table that held salt and sugar packets and toothpicks and napkins and things. It also held crayons. She grabbed a purple crayon and one of the cheap, papery napkins. Slowly, carefully, she drew the word on the napkin. Then she passed it to John.

John studied the crudely written word on the napkin. _Oracle._ "You're an oracle?"

"Yeah." She nodded to prove how serious she was. Judging from John's incredulous expression, it wasn't working very well. "You know, like the thing at Delphi, in Greece. There's a thing. In New York right now. A mission for Red and those guys. Big stuff. At least... I think it's right now. I think. Maybe. That part's a little fuzzy." Now that the heat of the hot chocolate was seeping into her hands, easing some of the pain from her cut palm, and she knew where she was, the panic was all but gone. And she knew John Myers was pure of heart. She could trust him. She was safe with him. Awesome. "Anyway, there's this guy. A... you might know him. Or maybe not. Didn't you get transferred to the South Pole?"

"I'm on leave," John replied in stunned reflex. How had she known he'd gotten transferred? "What guy?"

"I can't tell you." She'd watched the latest _Star Trek_ and the first two _Terminator_ movies lots of times, and _My Little Ponies_. She knew all about the rules of that sort of thing, and about the dangers of revealing too much of what was supposed to happen. "Just that Red, Abe, and this new guy they have are going to the bridge to find this other guy and they can't go in. They can't. If they do, some seriously bad stuff is going to happen."

Like that Elf prince unleashing the forest elemental on the city. A city where Geoff and Siobhan could be wondering around, unsuspecting of the danger. Both of them were military-trained in self-defense, but how did you defend against a giant plant faerie? She couldn't let the forest elemental be unleashed. Not while Siobhan was out there in the city, alone and possibly right where it would come up and attack.

And Geoff... what about Geoff? He wasn't adaptable. He didn't believe in stuff the way she and Siobhan did. Didn't entertain the possibilities of _more_. He was a very earthy kind of guy and that's why she loved him so much. What would happen to him here in this other-New York City where there were trolls and carnivorous tooth faeries and forest elementals? He'd get hurt. He'd get into trouble without Aisling to look after him because he didn't _know_ that those things might-could-possibly exist and were dangerous. Even if he was with Siobhan, Geoff could still get hurt because he didn't listen to Siobhan the way he listened to her. Aisling knew Geoff listened to her the way he did just because she would get upset if he didn't at least _pretend_ to take her seriously, but pretending would keep him safe. What would happen to him since she wasn't there for him to pretend with?

_Siobhan, I'm scared again,_ Aisling thought, staring at her hot chocolate again without seeing it. When the waitress came and put the bowl of soup in front of her, she didn't even notice. _What do I do? I don't know what to do._

"What bridge?"

"The big, big one. The famous one." She couldn't remember the name, though. Not exactly. "Um... I think it's got a girl's name."

"The Brooklyn Bridge?" John asked, and the girl nodded. There was silence for a long moment. "Um... you gonna eat your soup?" John asked, lacking anything better to say. Aisling gave him a single stricken look before she scooped up a spoonful, blew on it, and stuck it in her mouth. For the next ten minutes the BPRD agent watched the blond girl with the vacant eyes mechanically make her way through the bowl of soup. As she ate, the hand that held the spoon shook more and more. Eventually she put the spoon down.

"Can you help me get to the Brooklyn Bridge?"

John studied this girl, this so-called oracle. Those glass-green eyes were still a bit fuzzy. He'd realized a while ago that this was a standard thing. He had the feeling the girl wasn't quite right. Not that she was handicapped, exactly. Just not quite right. "A little slow, a lot of sweet," as his uncle would've said. But she'd been spot on about Abe, about his transfer, about the cover for the BPRD. She'd known about Red, which meant she knew things no one was supposed to know - because sure, everyone with any brains knew about Hellboy, but only those agents who worked _with_ the big red demon ever called him "Red."

"Okay," he said. "Finish your soup first. You need to warm up a little. Then I'll take you to the Brooklyn Bridge."

"To see Red?" Aisling double-checked with all the suspicion of a wary child. John nodded.

"Yeah, to see Red."

**.**

_10:03 PM  
>New York City<em>

Siobhan bit back a groan as she sank down onto a bench and tried to figure out a better way to breathe. It hurt to draw a full breath. Every time she did, pain lanced through her side and cut off her breath, making her wince. Her ribs weren't broken, but they hurt like blue fire. Sprained, maybe. Cracked, possibly. Definitely at least bruised. But that wasn't the worst of it.

The worst of it was that Aisling was missing.

She had no idea where she'd ended up, or where the younger girl could be. This wasn't Vail. Wasn't Tucson, the medium-sized city that was twenty minutes out of the Vail suburb. Wasn't even Phoenix. Siobhan had been to Phoenix often enough to recognize the capital of their state when she was in it. This didn't even feel like Arizona. Too cold for the time of year. September in Arizona offered eighty-degree heat and the electric crackle of end-of-monsoon rains. The air here had enough bite that it felt like late November. The rain was like driving needles of liquid nitrogen. Considering it _was_ September, Siobhan was fairly sure they were somewhere in the north of the country. How she had gotten here, she didn't know.

Where was Geoff?

And where was Aisling?

Aisling was fragile. After her attack when she was sixteen, Aisling had recovered physically for the most part, but she was very fragile emotionally. The things she could've dealt with easily as a teenager sent her into panic attacks now. Without either Siobhan or Geoff to keep her calm, who knew what could happen? Someone could grab her, hurt her, kidnap her. Whatever. Anything.

And her brain didn't work quite right. She could think clearly and at an adult capacity - half the time, anyway, or unless she was having a panic attack; the doctors had told them that, but her thoughts didn't translate well into verbal speech. How could she even ask for help? And who even knew if she was... wherever this was?

A flash of white caught Siobhan's eye and she sat bolt upright. Lances of pain bit deep into her side and she hissed out a breath. But the white that had caught her eye was still there. A white coyote with copper eyes padded toward her on silent paws. About ten feet away, it stopped and sat down in the middle of the street. Cars drove past without acknowledging the ivory beast in the middle of the road. None of the pedestrians seemed to take note of the coyote, either. Those molten copper eyes pinned the twenty-two-year-old to the bench. Then she felt... something. A brush like silk and shadow against the backs of her eyes.

Without quite knowing why, Siobhan got to her feet and started toward the coyote.

Aisling. It would take her to Aisling. She didn't know how she knew that, exactly, but she did. She didn't know what was going on, or where she was, or why there was a coyote in the middle of a big city in the north. Didn't matter. This animal would take her to wherever Aisling was and then they'd find Geoff and... well, Siobhan wasn't sure what they'd do after that, but at least the three of them would be together.

_Follow me, warrior._ A cool voice like living, breathing shadows. _The bard will find you. We seek the healer._

_Who the heck are you?_

_Follow the beast, warrior, if you wish to find the healer. Follow your dream._

The white coyote turned away and started walking down the street toward another intersection. Siobhan trudged after it, her shoes squelching with rain water, shivering in the cold. This was crazy. She was following a wild animal that no one seemed to be able to see but her, a wild animal that seemed to have walked right out of her oldest recurring dreams, a wild animal that shouldn't have even been in the middle of a busy city in the first place, because she was pretty sure it would lead her to a single, mentally damaged girl.

Sometimes Siobhan wondered what made her cling to Aisling so hard. Geoff, well, she and Geoff had gone through JROTC and ROTC together. Same platoon, all eight years in the military training corps. They were best friends and comrades-in-arms. They'd even done drill team together in middle school.

But Aisling... she and Aisling had been friends since the second grade. Siobhan had taken one look at the slim pixie of a girl and known instantly they would be best friends forever and ever. That feeling had never gone away. Aisling had been a leader, once upon a time. Siobhan had been the strong one, but Aisling had been smart, been fast, and she'd been strong too. Until she'd turned sixteen, gotten attacked, and ended up in a coma in the hospital for a year. Ever since then, Siobhan was the protector. The bodyguard. The warrior who had to protect all that fragile strength. And Aisling was the delicate porcelain doll who was afraid of her own shadow.

Aisling had to be protected. She knew it, and Geoff knew it. The one time Aisling hadn't been, the one time Siobhan and Geoff had let her go somewhere on her own without checking on her or anything, she'd ended up almost dying. They'd sworn never to risk that again.

Siobhan had to find her as soon as possible. So she followed the coyote.

**.**

_10:45 PM  
>The Brooklyn Bridge<em>

"Kitty," Aisling crooned to the fuzzy kitten that was rubbing against her calf, demanding fish. The unscraped part of her hand was bone-pale against the cat's patchy, dark gray fur. "I don't have any food. I'm sorry."

She scooped up the cat in her arms. It yowled in protest for a minute, then subsided when it realized the human wasn't going to swat it or yell at it or try to squeeze it too hard. Blue eyes glared up at her in indignation. _I might be an alley cat_, the glare seemed to say, _but I'm still a cat. Show some respect._ But the girl, if she understood the cat's meaning, didn't give any indication that she cared much one way or the other.

"I like kitties," Aisling said to John.

"That's nice," the special agent said absently as he studied the Brooklyn Bridge. Traffic rumbled by, ignoring the man and girl on the blue motorcycle. The rain had finally stopped sheeting down. Now the sky occassionally spit, but that was all and not really a problem. He didn't see the Squeaky Clean Waste Management garbage truck anywhere. Were they on the wrong side? Or had he taken the obviously-damaged girl too seriously? What did he know about the kid, except that she needed a new pair of glasses and was either brain-damaged, or good at faking it? Nothing. So why listen to her at all about this so-called mission?

Because he had instincts. Anyone who wanted to make a career in some branch of law enforcement had to have instincts, and his instincts were screaming at him about a lot of things: that Aisling was legit; that she was in trouble; and that if he just chucked her back onto the street in a fit of aggravation, she'd be dead by morning. Which was why he was busy staring at the bridge, trying to figure out what the heck he was supposed to do since he didn't see the BPRD anywhere.

The cat leapt out of Aisling's hands. Disappointment squeezed her heart like a fist. She loved kitties. Wanted one so much. But Siobhan had said it wasn't safe to have a kitty at their house because of where they lived. Too many scorpions and rattlesnakes. Too easy for little kitties to get hurt. Aisling still liked to pet them whenever she could.

Blue eyes blinked at her from a few feet away. Aisling cocked her head, pushing absently at her glasses when they tried to slide down her wet nose. The cat mewed. So she took a step toward it. Maybe it wanted to be friends after all? Maybe it would let her pick it up again.

When she was within a foot of the gray kitten, it flipped up its tail at her. She jumped back. Then she remembered it was only bad for boy cats and skunks to do that. The cat gave her a disgusted look and began to trot down the sidewalk. A few feet further on, it turned and squeaked at her. _Come on,_ it seemed to say. _If you want to be my friend, you can't be a chicken._

_I'm not a chicken,_ she thought. Aloud, "I'm not." So she followed after it. John wasn't going anywhere. He was going to stay at the bridge and look for Red and Abe and everybody so Aisling knew she could follow the little cat at least a little bit and the special agent would still be there when she returned. And since the cat was her friend, she was pretty sure nothing bad was going to happen because she tried to pick it up. It hadn't even scratched her or anything when she'd held it before.

The only other thing she had to worry about was the elemental, which was big and green and kind of scary, but if she was remembering right (which, she could admit, sometimes she didn't), it only wanted Red because the Elf prince had said, "Kill him." Not even _them._ Just "him."

Which, Aisling thought as she took careful steps on the wet pavement, Red kind of deserved. He hadn't even _cared_ about killing Mr. Wink, who was obviously the prince's best friend and even bad guys were allowed to have best friends. If someone had killed Siobhan or Geoff, well... well she... she just... Even thinking about it made her heart slam hard in her chest and the back of her skull throb with a short sudden burst of pain. And for that to happen and the person who'd done it not even caring at all, and making fun of her when she was upset... it was the one time in the whole movie where she hadn't liked Red very much. He'd been a total bully. And mean. Good guys weren't supposed to be mean. At least not like _that._ But Geoff had said that sometimes boys could be mean without realizing it, even if they _were_ good guys. Which just proved that girls were better. Siobhan was only mean on purpose.

The girl and the cat didn't go very far. A dozen feet or so. Aisling was very careful not to step in any of the puddles or on any cracks (she didn't want to break anyone's back). The cat hopped up on a garbage can and mewed imperiously, so Aisling scooped it up again and cuddled it. Smiled when it started to purr. Now she'd proven to it that she wasn't a chicken, so she could take it back to John and pet it some more. They were friends now. Wasn't that nice?

A flash of red caught her eye. She blinked. Peered through her cracked, rain-washed glasses at the alley where she'd thought she'd just seen... there! A slender whip of vibrant vermillion that swayed slowly back and forth about two or three inches above the alley trash.

Aisling frowned. Set the cat down on the pavement. It promptly ran off, leaving her there in the alley. The girl pulled off her glasses and swiped at the water residue on the lenses. Her fingertip caught on the jagged lip of the crack down the left lens. _Oh, owie, that hurts!_ Then she blinked when she heard a voice say, "Hey, Luceee! I'm home."

That voice was familiar. As if she'd heard it a long, long time ago. Or like the myriad of voices she'd heard while she'd been sleeping after the Break. It was a good guy voice. The kind of voice Geoff called "hail-fellow-well-met." It wasn't Ron Perlman's voice, but it was rich and deep and fun like his voice. Rumbly and mischievous and silly like his voice in the movie. Good guy voice. Hellboy's voice.

_Red's voice,_ Aisling thought, and her heart did a little bumpy dance in her chest. Her fingers wrapped around her locket. She'd found him.

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_**Author's Note:**_ _Okay, so I want to stop and break here for the week. We've got 3 chapters. I figure that gives you a good idea of the style we're going for, the current MC (the first several chapters are going to be centered around Aisling - mostly so I can get the hang of writing her - but Siobhan and Geoff also have their own chapters and plot arcs), the general direction of the plot, etc. So I'm gonna post these three chapters and see how well it does with all of you guys. Also, unlike "Once," this fic will have shorter chapters (this and the next chapter will be the longest; my average is going to be about 4-6000 words, usually 4 or 5k). So for those of you who were interested in "Once" but thought it too long, maybe you'll like this better. So what do you think?_

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_**References Made in This Chapter**_

- The Living Darkness is an extrapolation of the Darkness That Eats All Things, an entity and oath-binder from my other HB fic, "Once Upon a Time." In "Snow White, Blood Red," the Darkness is actually an entity with two functions - to guard Faerie from magical threats, and to prevent anyone who swears by it from breaking that oath. To break the oath of "I swear on the Darkness That Eats All Things" or "I swear on the Living Darkness" (insert what you're swearing to here) will get you slowly devoured alive by said living darkness over the span of a few eons.

I first read about the concept of this Darkness in _the Meredith Gentry Series_ by Laurell K. Hamilton, but she has so many things she got from myth (Gabriel Ratchets, the Sluagh, white ladies, sithens, etc) that I figured she couldn't claim intellectual property rights over this little bit of lore, either. In this fic, I've also combined the basics of the Darkness That Eats All Things with the basics of the Darkness from Anne Bishop's _the Dark Jewels Series_(literally it seems like its a vastly power living darkness that's sort of like the primordial ooze, except with sentience).

- Aisling's vertigo at not being able to see the stars is something that happened to me when I went to London on a school field trip. I looked up and almost passed out because I live in a city where on any given night without cloud cover you can see stars as clear as diamonds against black velvet, and then I get to London and the sky looks like sludge. It was really, really disorienting and the feeling lasted the entire 10 days I was there.


	4. Chase Me, Find Me

_**Author's Note:**__okay, so there's a time discrepency in the film (not in this fanfic, in the film). At least, according to the novelization. As I'm writing this author's note, I'll have to check the movie in a minute. Anyway, it says that the scene with Balor and Nuada where Nuada kills his dad and gets the second half of the crown's circlet happens at midnight. However, the scene where the BPRD go to "Lucy" the fragglewump and get her to show them the Troll Market happens at 10:30PM, even though Nuada already has the second piece at this point. Now, is it a different day? Or what? I have no idea. I don't think it's a different day, because at the beginning they say it's the 26th of September at like, 8pm. And then they follow up the scene shifts with time indicators but no more date indicators. So I'm thinking that the walk to the Troll Market (it says in the book they had to go through a really dark tunnel for a long-butt time) took that long. So keep that in mind, please._

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**Chapter Three**  
><strong>Chase Me, Find Me<strong>

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_11:08 PM  
>Somewhere in New York City…<em>

She'd never seen a big wall of television sets before.

Siobhan stopped walking, even though some kid on a skateboard smacked into her with enough force that her (sprained? cracked? broken?) ribs protested. Her vision went gray and she staggered against the glass of the storefront window. Then she just stood there for a long moment, trying to catch the breath that had been ripped out of her. A few feet away, the white coyote watched her with its bizarre copper eyes. She ignored it and looked up at the wall of miniature televisions.

They showed this kind of thing in movies all the time. There was a scene in _Splash_, with Daryl Hannah, where she was jazzercising along to the TV sets on the shelves at some store in the mall. She and Aisling had gone to both Park Place and El Con Malls to see if they had something like that because Aisling wanted to try it. They hadn't. Neither had the Rincon or Foothills Malls. Maybe it was a big-city thing. But for some reason the auburn-haired woman found herself arrested by the sight of those little televisions. What were they playing, anyway? It looked familiar.

"_There you have it, folks -_Hellboy_. Is he really... on our side?"_

The audio certainly sounded familiar. Were they playing the second movie or the first? Maybe it was on sale or something. Halloween was only a month away. Movies about the supernatural always went on sale around Halloween. But there was something weird about this footage. It sounded familiar, and it kinda looked familiar too, but...

_"I mean, he's bright red, has a tail, and shaves his horns - horns, ladies and gentlemen. Horns are_never_a good thing._"

Obviously the news guy in this movie had never seen _The Voyage of the Unicorn._ There was a guy with horns in that movie. A minotaur or something. She didn't know, but Aisling would have; the younger girl had made Siobhan watch it with her more than fifty times over the last six months. That guy had been a good guy and he'd had horns, too.

And just that thought was enough to have the twenty-two-year-old blinking back tears. How the heck had she managed to lose Aisling? And Geoff, that idiot. She was supposed to look after the two of them. She and Geoff were the ones who'd promised Aisling they'd protect her and somehow they'd lost her after taking that stupid tumble off the stupid roof of their stupid house. Because of those _things_. Those freaky faceless monsters that clicked like insects and had scuttled after them, intent on pain and probably death. The things that smelled like rotting garbage and dead coyotes when the furry corpses had been in the sun all day and wasn't that just disgusting? Those nasty, freaky monsters...

She gripped the hilt of one of her _tantō_ in one hand and her locket it the other, trying to keep from hyperventilating. Monsters like that didn't exist. She was being ridiculous.

Except her hands were ripped up from climbing onto the roof to escape the monsters that supposedly didn't exist. Except taking a full breath was agony because she'd fallen off the roof and hit the ground _hard_. Except that wherever she'd landed wasn't near their house, wasn't near their neighborhood, wasn't even in their state.

_We're on a deadline, warrior,_ the coyote said.

Or maybe it wasn't the coyote. For some reason Siobhan had the distinct impression that the strange, luminously white coyote was male. The voice in her head sounded... not quite female, but it wasn't male, either. Definitely not male. There was a cold agelessness in that voice that reminded her of a crocodile. Weren't crocodiles the only reptiles on the planet that had been around at the time of the dinosaurs? They'd been the perfect predator even then, never needing to evolve. Or maybe that was gators. Or sharks? Either way, the impression she got from the sepulchral voice whispering inside her head (and wasn't it just a little too bizarre that the same night Aisling complained of hearing a voice, she heard one too?) was that this... _entity_ was old as dirt and dangerous as a rabid hyena.

"I'm trying to figure something out," Siobhan muttered at the coyote. Of course because no one could see it but her (_of course_), a few people gave her mildly curious looks as they passed by. But this was a large city. She was pretty sure it was New York, because LA smelled like toxic air and poisonous flowers (since the flowers were everywhere). New York City, she'd heard, smelled like smog and icy metal and acid rain. And weird people abounded in New York. "Just give me a minute, would you?"

_If you want to know the catch, look at the screen,_ the ancient voice commanded.

Siobhan was seriously tempted to mumble "bite me," mostly because the voice had an edge of impatience to it that sent shivers screaming up and down her spine. She couldn't afford to be scared of anything. She had a job to do - taking care of her best friend. But there was something off about this whole place. She wasn't sure what exactly, but it was nagging at her so that pain throbbed behind her left eye. Or had she hit her head when she fell? She couldn't remember, which probably meant she had.

Because there was nothing else to try, the redhead glanced at the television sets again. Frowned. She was a humongous fan of Selma Blair (not that anyone, even Aisling, knew how many times Siobhan had seen _Legally Blonde_ of her own volition; her favorite actress as a pseudo-bad guy? Too good to pass up).

The woman on the screen was _not_ Selma Blair.

Oh, she looked _kind of_ like her: a cap of short black hair in a sassy cut that framed her slender face, suspicious blue eyes that scanned the crowd warily as she stepped out of a building. There was even Abe, the fish-man from the _Hellboy_ movies, standing with her in the shot. But the woman on the screen wasn't Selma Blair. Selma Blair didn't have the lean whipcord muscles of a young Amazon coupled with eyes the brilliant blue of the heart of a flame. Even with the camera almost fifty feet away those eyes could not be missed. Siobhan stared at the television screen, trying to understand. This was a scene right out of _Hellboy II_: Liz and Abe stepping out of the building right after Red had unveiled the BPRD to the world. So what was this? A cosplay thing for some convention? Because neither of those two people on the screen looked quite like the people in the film.

The footage shifted and there was this squat, fat balding guy in a tacky gray suit talking to a bunch of reporters in the pouring rain about gas pockets and the FBI. Even as she watched, he popped a bright pink antacid that was already melting in the rain. Where were they filming at? It wasn't raining here; not anymore, anyway, and thank goodness because Aisling was absolutely terrified of rain getting in her mouth and up her nose. Lost Aisling was bad enough. Panicked, lost Aisling would've been a whole lot worse.

The guy from before, who'd mentioned horns being bad, popped back up on the screen as the sound of the balding guy talking to journalists faded away. And she knew, suddenly, why this whole setup felt wrong to her. In the film, they hadn't actually shown the so-called "news footage" of Hellboy's unveiling. At least not much. Not in this amount of detail. Which was why the audio felt familiar - some of it had obviously been swiped from the movie - but why there'd been a sense of wrongness to it as well. This wasn't what she remembered.

Which was no big deal. Pretty clever, though, of those cosplayers to pull off something like this. Must have been for one of those big-bopper conventions she'd always wanted to go to but couldn't because Aisling couldn't handle the crowds. New York Comic-Con, maybe.

_Come_along,_warrior,_ the voice snarled.

Siobhan sighed and pushed away from the rain-streaked glass. Had to bite back a groan as her ribs protested. She really, _really_ hoped they weren't broken. She was no doctor, so she didn't know what kind of complications could arise from broken ribs. A punctured lung? Ruptured spleen or something? Who knew?

She started walking again. "Where are we going, anyway?" She demanded of the canine apparition that was not, could not be there.

_Brooklyn. To the bridge._

"Um, okay. Why?" Her feet were starting to hurt. She'd been wearing her ratty sneakers with no arch support because they'd been in the house, darn it. Now those shabby black Vans were soaked with dirty water from the rain gutters and her arches were making their displeasure known.

_The healer is there. She seeks for kinship. That is best, but she will need you. You seek kinship as well._

"Yeah, I have no idea what that means."

_You don't need to know. You will feel it when you find it._

Right. Whatever the heck _that_ meant.

**.**

_11:34PM  
>The Court of Bethmoora, New York Rail Yards<em>

He should have known she would come right to him. As soon as word came that Crown Prince Nuada Silverlance, son of King Balor, had shattered the truce with the humans by feeding four score of them to a horde of tooth fairies, the One-Armed King should've known his daughter would race into the nearly empty great hall, begging him to tell her it wasn't true, that Nuada couldn't possibly have done such a thing.

As much as the old king wanted to reassure his favorite child, he couldn't. Because his prodigal son had, in fact, done just that. He had betrayed his king, his family, his honor, the truce... and for what? Balor wasn't sure, and didn't care. There was no excuse, no reason strong enough for such a slaughter. No justification for such treason.

And Prince Nuada was on his way _here_, now, to speak to his king. To speak to the Council made up of all the Elven noble families of Bethmoora. To attempt to convince his father to declare war once more on the world of men.

What would the prince do when the king refused? Balor was not sure of that, either, but he had some idea. He only prayed he was wrong.

"Father," Princess Nuala gasped suddenly, the hand she had laid on his arm tightening convulsively. "_Father!_"

Weary and despairing golden eyes lifted from the fading scrollwork on the arm of the king's throne to the entryway to the hall. Surely Nuada was not here yet? Surely the Council hadn't all arrived yet? Once the Council was assembled out in the antechambers of the great hall, then they would all come inside. Until then, Balor had been planning on solitude in which to come to peace with the decision he fervently prayed he wouldn't have to make.

It wasn't Nuada, pale and dark-eyed and implacable as darkness, who stood in the entryway to the hall. The chamberlain cowered against the arch of the entryway, struggling to get as far away as possible from the creature that watched Balor from across the room. At least, the king assumed the visitor watched him. It possessed no eyes that _he_ could see, so the king couldn't be sure. But the creature in the entrance glided forward as smoothly as shadow sweeping across the world at dusk. What might have been robes of black spidersilk fluttered on intangible phantom breezes. Frost crept along the ground in the wake of its gliding footsteps. Balor knew this visitor: the breathing shadow, the phantom night. A servant of the Living Darkness.

"I have no time to dither, little king," the phantom murmured. "My master sends me to you with a warning and a command. Are you loyal to Faerie, Balor One-Arm? Are you loyal to the truce between your kind and men? Are you loyal to your children? My master says, if you wish to preserve them all, you must do as I say, for the Silverlance comes to awaken the Golden Army once more and set it to ravage the Race of Adam. What say you to this, little king?"

"My son is not mad enough to do such a thing!"

The phantom's stare, if it had possessed one, would've been cool and piercing. Its dark regard was enough to strangle any more protests before they left the Elf king's mouth. "He is mad with grief and loss and rage. His magic is ragged and wounded now because of the war and the loss of those who served him truly and because of what _you_ have done. My master will concern itself with the prince. But you must do as I command you if he, and the truce, and Faerie are to be saved."

"It is too late," Nuala whispered. "I can feel him. He's coming; he's almost here. He has already broken the truce-"

"Give your daughter your piece of the Crown, King Balor," that sepulchral midnight voice commanded. The old Elf king's brow furrowed as the phantom's words penetrated. To Nuala? She was no match for Nuada. Of course, Nuada would never harm his twin. Balor knew this. But he could take the last two pieces of the crown from her easily enough without hurting her. The king opened his mouth to protest and the phantom added, "Nuada will come here and speak his piece to the Council. After the prince arrives, with both pieces Princess Nuala will go to the Troll Market. Nuada will demand your part of the Crown. Tell him exactly what you have done with it, and where Nuala is to be found. Attempt to prevent the Silverlance from following after her, but he will dispatch your Butcher Guards fairly easily."

"But then he will surely seek her out! And once he finds her there will be nothing to prevent him from stealing the last pieces of the Crown!"

Darkness was already receding as the phantom glided back the way it had come. The icy chill of its presence frosted the golden leaves drifting from overhead, but the ring of frost surrounding where it had stood to speak to the king had already melted away. At the entrance to the king's hall, the phantom turned what might've been its gaze on Balor.

"He _will_ seek her out, yes. But the son of the Fallen One of Sheol will stop him long enough for the first seeds of my master's plans to begin to come to fruition. I warn you, Balor One-Arm - do as I have commanded, as my master commands, or you and your bloodline will die before Samhain, and all will be for naught."

And the living shadow disappeared, leaving Balor to gaze at his daughter and wonder just when the Living Darkness had run mad.

**.**

_12:00AM_

"Is this truly the path you wish to follow?" King Balor asked, gazing down at his son. Proud, cold, stern - the Elf prince had looked much the same way that long-ago and bloody day when the truce had been forged and Nuada had taken his first steps into exile. But Balor didn't know this warrior prince who had come before him instead of the hot-blooded princeling that had walked away all those centuries ago.

What had changed in Nuada? Would he still be so cold and stern, so unmoved, when his father told him just where the final two pieces of the Golden Crown were? Already Nuala had slipped away, convinced that she could no more sway her twin to the proper course of things than could his father.

_'Awaken the Golden Army? But our green fields cannot grow out of all that blood. Let the Army sleep. If it is our time, then we shall fade away into the twilight of the world.'_ _And Prince Nuada, so skilled at concealing his emotions from the world, had stared at his sister in clear consternation and growing betrayed anger as he replied, his words carved by cold iron from colder ice, 'We will_ not _fade. Better to burn than fade.'_

"It is," he said now, auriferous eyes never leaving his king's face. "I'm sorry, Father."

Sorry, because he knew just what this would cost Balor. Sorry, because he was almost certain his father would insist on standing in Nuada's way, and the warrior prince couldn't allow that. Couldn't allow even the love he bore his father to prevent him from saving his people. Not even his love for Nuala could hold his sword in check when it finally came time for it to descend upon the ranks of the humans. He had lost too many for that.

Swallowing back the salt of his grief at what he was almost sure would be demanded of him, the prince added, "Give me the Crown piece, Father."

A sad smile stretched the weathered, age-lined face. "I do not have it."

Shock rippled across the Elven warrior's face at his king's declaration. For a long moment of awful stillness, Nuada could only stare at Balor with wide eyes. If he had carried a sword in that moment, it most likely would have dropped from suddenly nerveless fingers.

"_What?_"

"Nuala has them both," the king said, and gestured to the entryway of the great hall. Nuada spun on his heel, as if hoping to catch a glimpse of his sister holding out both pieces like an offering. There was only Wink, turning to look over his shoulder as if he only now realized the Elf princess was gone. "And," Balor added, "she has already fled."

**.**

_12:49AM  
>The entrance to the Troll Market, Brooklyn<em>

Aisling leaned against the wall and kicked off her Vans before following after Red and the others. She didn't know if Abe maybe had really good hearing, or if Doctor Krauss did. This way, in her sock feet, she wouldn't crunch any rocks or gravel or anything. She'd learned that trick about being sneaky from Siobhan. Carrying her water-logged sneakers in one hand, the twenty-year-old picked her way carefully down the alley after the BPRD agents.

She probably shouldn't have snuck off, she decided as she slipped over to the doorway of some kind of giant freezer or something. Gargantuan slabs of what was probably beef (judging from the sign overhead, which read "Happy Cows Means Tasty Beef," which was just a little creepy) hung from the ceiling, wrapped in plastic sheeting that made them look like ghosts. Aisling swallowed hard at the sight of the bloodless meat dangling like shroud-wrapped corpses. She didn't like raw meat. It looked like... like bad things. Scary things that she'd seen... well, before. But she didn't have to think about _before_ if she didn't want to. Siobhan had said so. But it was hard not to remember from right before the Break, when the butchered cow corpses creaked on their chains in the sere September wind.

_Siobhan, I'm scared again,_ she thought, wishing that she'd grabbed John instead of walking off on her own. But she hadn't known! She'd only been going after the cat. She hadn't known she'd see Red and the others. If she'd known, she _would_ have grabbed the BPRD agent. Had John noticed she was gone? Was he worried about her?

Trying to keep her breathing shallow and even, the blond girl listened as Red and Krauss argued. She'd felt kind of bad for Krauss when watching the movie. It probably wasn't fun to be an ecto... ecto... a smoke-person. Could he feel sunshine? Eat pizza? Smell the way grass smelled after a good long soak of rain? Kiss a girl if he wanted? Probably not. She remembered vaguely how it had felt to be trapped inside her own body - no scents, not even the sting of disinfectant and the rubbery smell of latex; no sights other than the weird dream-like things she'd seen every so often; no feelings or sounds that didn't come from those dreams. At least she'd _had_ dreams. Did Krauss dream? Did he even sleep? She didn't think so. No wonder he was such a grouch-potato.

She'd kinda felt bad for the fragglewump, too. She felt really bad for her now, knowing the troll was a real troll and not a fake thing in a movie. Would she get in trouble for showing them the gate to the Troll Market? And wasn't Red going to hit her? Geoff had said boys should only hit girls in self-defense. Hmmm...

Clinking and clanking jerked her wandering attention back to the drama unfolding inside the room full of bovine carcasses. Peeking around the doorway, she watched Red and the other two BPRD agents stride into the eerie green unlight of what had to be the Troll Market.

_Shoot,_ she thought. She'd meant to grab them between the fragglewump leaving and the door opening. She didn't _want_ to go into the Troll Market! She didn't want _them_ going into the Troll Market, either. In the Troll Market Abe would meet Nuala. Well, that was all right, Aisling supposed. But Red would... Red would kill Wink. Red would fight Wink and the big cave troll would die and then the Elf prince would be sad and so angry. Just like Geoff had been angry after the Break, and her long sleep. Geoff was still angry about that. If she'd died, how much more angry would he have been? The prince would be angry, and Red would be so mean to him even though his best friend had only just died and it was Red's fault, and then the forest elemental...

_What do I do?_ Aisling thought frantically, chewing on her lower lip until she tasted blood. A frisson of panic at the taste shivered down her spine. She spat blood on the rain-wet pavement. _What do I do? What do I do? Siobhan, Geoff, I don't know what to do! Wink's going to die, Red's going to kill him, and then all the bad stuff will happen. I have to stop it, I have to..._ Her racing thoughts suddenly slowed and, feeling oddly disconnected from her body and the rest of the world, Aisling took a step toward the door to the Troll Market. _I have to stop Red from killing Wink. How do I do that?_

Maybe if she asked really nice, Red would do it for her. John had been nice. He and Red were friends; Red was really nice, too. Maybe if she asked extra especially nice, the demon would let Wink live. He didn't _have_ to die in order to end the fight in the Troll Market. And then Nuada wouldn't be sad, and the forest elemental wouldn't pop up and destroy everything. Geoff and Siobhan would be safe. From that big blob of scariness, at least. But... but she didn't _want_ to go to the Troll Market! It was full of strangers and things that could eat her and maybe even tooth fairies and what if she saw Wink before Red did? What if she messed up the time-space continuum or something?

What if, somehow, she saw Prince Nuada? The sad and angry prince who hated humans and wanted them all dead? She was a human. What if he tried to kill her? What if he killed her before she could stop Red from hurting Wink?

The sound of gears and cogs grinding dragged her eyes to the door. It was closing. Trying to make a sound to give herself some courage (it came out sounding more like a squeak), she dashed through the inverted forest of bloodless corpses and slipped through the door just before it slid shut.

Panting for breath - she was _not_ good at running, and it made her head hurt when her heart pounded like that - she leaned against the door and stuffed her shoes back on before looking around. Aisling swallowed the sudden lump of fear in her throat. It might have been a scream; she wasn't sure. What she _was_ sure about was that if she started screaming now, she'd never stop. But so many people. So many different people and all of them strangers, all of them strangers to her which meant they could be bad, so scary and bad and what was she supposed to do? How was she supposed to find Red in all of these people? Already the big red demon had disappeared into the crowd.

_Oh... oh, no. Now what?_ The blond girl adjusted her broken glasses, shoving them back up the bridge of her nose, and tried to think. What was some good advice about finding your way? _'When in doubt, Meriadoc, always follow your nose.' No, that's not right. Um... two wrongs don't make a right, but three rights make a left? Nope. Oh, man. I don't know where to go! I might as well just go straight._ She paused. Blinked. Swiped at her glasses lens with the sleeve of her damp sweater. _Actually... yeah. I'll go straight. And try not to get stepped on or lost._

Tugging on her froo-froo overskirt in an attempt to give her trembling hands something productive to do, trying to ignore the thick crack in her glasses lens and the fact that she knew her tights were ripped, Aisling took a deep breath and then walked into the mythical and massive crowd of the Troll Market.

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_**Author's Note:**__So, what I'm going for here, is chapters of a manageable length. My other HB fanfic, "Once Upon a Time," the chapters are usually between 10,000-15,000 words. I want the max for these chapters to be like, 6,000 words or so, so that they don't take too long to get through. Kind of like the chapters in the books like_ Angels and Demons _or whatever. So I hope you're enjoying the events of the story so far and that everyone is interesting and stuff. =) Tata!_


	5. Revelations

_**Author's Note:**__I've finally updated! Yay! Only four months between this update and the last one! I'll try and update more often, but I couldn't find my files for a while due to computer troubles, lol. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this new chapter. Let me know what you think, yeah?_

_And just so you guys know, Aisling's Mary-Sue Litmus Test Score, found out using the updated Universal Mary-Sue Litmus Test, is 16. For a score of 0-16, "Most likely Not-Sue. Characters at this level could probably take a little spicing up without hurting them any."_

.

**Chapter Four**  
><strong>Revelations<strong>

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_1:27 AM  
>The Troll Market<em>

Aisling cringed away from the tall, black-robed person in the metal helmet and barely managed to keep from tripping on her water-logged shoelaces and face-planting into the puddles littering the ground. Myriad puffs of steam from broken and sheared-off pipes fogged her glasses and heated her soaked sweater and t-shirt so they stuck to her skin like wet plastic. She hugged herself and kept moving. She had to find Red. Before he... before he... before the prince found out and the forest elemental... before Siobhan and Geoff...

She took a deep breath. Swallowed panic. No panicking. She couldn't panic. If she panicked, she'd start screaming, then monsters would see her and realize she was scared. The monsters always came after you when you were scared. Sometimes they came if you weren't scared, but they _always_ came if you were. She knew that from what happened before the Break. So she couldn't scream. Couldn't panic.

But other people were panicking. Aisling blinked and tried not to trip again as several creatures zipped past her, running in the opposite direction of where she'd been headed. The twenty-one-year-old stopped. Where was everyone going? They weren't screaming. They weren't yelling "fire" or "murder" or anything. So why were they running?

A flash of red between the crowds of strange creatures caught her eye. Her heart sped up. She darted between two massive frog-things that looked a bit like walking nebrie (she remembered nebrie, from _The Dark Crystal_. They were nice, and not scary, so she wasn't scared of these things, either). Aisling's foot caught on the corner of a market stall. She stumbled. Fell. Skinned her knees again, this time on the gravel scattered across the damp ground. Her knees stung. A splinter of wood drove deep into her palm. Blood welled up and mixed with the icky water. She yelped.

The cranking of metal against metal had Aisling glancing up from her scraped knees and palms. Pain shot through the back of her skull as she realized what she was looking at. Adrenaline hummed in her blood. The pain at the back of her head spiked. Panic wrung tears from her stinging eyes. No, no, no! That couldn't happen! She had to stop it from happening! If she let it happen, everyone would get hurt! All the bad things would happen! She had to get up!

Her legs didn't work. Cold and wet seeped into her as she knelt in the grimy puddle and watched in horror as a massive, blue-gray creature with a metal arm launched his mechanized fist straight at a crimson-skinned man with shaved horns in a leather duster.

The man with the horns and duster dodged aside.

A gargantuan garbage-compactor caught the launched fist between its spiky metal teeth. Crunched down. The blue-gray creature - _Wink_, Aisling thought with horror, _that's Wink!_ - was yanked forward a couple feet. With obvious effort, Wink braced himself. Hauled against the chain attaching his crushed hand to the rest of his body. It had no effect.

Before she knew what she was doing, Aisling was on her feet. She wobbled. Staggered against a wooden market stall as everything swam around her. More pain throbbed in her head, centered around a four-inch spot at the back of her skull. Her eyes burned. She shoved toward the chain glinting in the strange light of the Troll Market. Reached out blindly. She could barely see past the pulsing hurt in her head.

Warm metal bit into her palms. Aisling wrapped her fingers tight around the chain. Squeezed her eyes shut. From behind her came a loud roar. Aisling tightened her grip and screamed as loud as she could, "Please, Red, help! _Please!_"

**.**

_1:30AM  
>Near the Brooklyn Bridge…<em>

Siobhan stumbled into slime-coated brick and thought she might pass out as pain threaded through her side like some sort of toxic weed. She gasped for breath. Struggled to keep the world from graying out around her. Fought to keep her eyes on the bizarre white coyote that no one else could see but her. Yet even as she watched, the coyote turned its luminous coppery eyes on her, blinked, and vanished. It didn't even fade away like mist. Nothing walked in front of it to give it a means of escaping her notice. It simply blinked out of existence.

The redhead stared in uncomprehending and rising terror at where the coyote had been only moments before. No. No, it couldn't be gone. The coyote, real or imagined, had been the only lead she'd had to go on in the search for Aisling. How was she supposed to find the younger woman in a strange city easily twenty times the size of their old one without a guide of some sort? Where had the coyote gone? Why had it disappeared? How was she supposed to find Aisling?

Aisling...

"Aisling!" A man's voice. Youngish, but not a boy's. Possible tenor, deepened and roughened by panic into a baritone. A kind voice. Calling Aisling's name. Could it be a coincidence? Siobhan wasn't sure. She didn't believe in coincidence, usually, but she also didn't want to get her hopes up. Because if she was wrong... "Aisling!"

"Excuse me!" Siobhan pushed away from the brick. Stumbled a couple steps toward the man in a dark suit. He peered into an alley. She could see even from a distance that he looked frantic. Despite the pouring rain plastering his dark hair and pale shirt to his skin, he kept calling the name _Aisling_. He didn't notice Siobhan until she was nearly on top of him. "Excuse me! Are you looking for Aisling?"

The man fixed her with a startled stare of soft blue. "I... you know Aisling?"

"Blond, glasses, green eyes, and double-layered froo-froo skirts over denim Capri pants and tights," Siobhan rattled off. She tried to quell her rising hope. "A little slow but a sweet kid. You know her?"

He nodded. "Who are you?"

"I'm Siobhan." _And I'm about to pass out from a combination of weak-kneed relief and busted ribs._ Barely noting the look of shock and relief on the guy's face, she added, trying not to wheeze, "Who are you?"

Reaching into his pants' pocket, the guy pulled out his wallet and flipped it open. Siobhan stared at it. "Special Agent John Thaddeus Myers, FBI."

She stared at the federal shield for a moment. Stared at the driver's license next to it. It _looked_ legit, but there was no way. There was just no way. The odds of a guy who worked for the FBI, named John Thaddeus Myers, looking like _that_, in Brooklyn? No freaking way. Siobhan gave the guy her best "you're a douche" look and snapped, "What's your real name? And where'd you get the shield?"

John bit back something sharp and scathing. Aisling had had the same amount of disbelief when he'd told her his name (though she hadn't been _hostile_). Was this girl, this friend of Aisling's, also an oracle? Did she also know about the BPRD? About Red and Abe? Did she know what Aisling had been talking about, about needing to get to the Brooklyn Bridge? Or had this federal agent lost his marbles? That was an equally viable explanation as to why he was standing out in the pouring rain in the middle of the night on his vacation, looking for a mentally handicapped girl he barely knew who'd wandered off who knew where.

"Look, I swear my real name is John Thaddeus Myers. I'm twenty-nine years old, I work for the FBI, and I saw Aisling about two hours ago petting an alley cat. I looked away for like, five minutes, and when I looked back, she was gone."

Unable to process the name, age, and occupation of the guy - he obviously took his cosplaying _very_ seriously - Siobhan latched onto the one thing she understood and could handle.

"You let her pet a strange cat and then didn't keep an eye on her? What are you, stupid?"

John's eyes widened. "Excuse me?"

"Half the time she's got the mind of a six-year-old! You don't _not_ keep a sharp eye on a six-year-old! Especially when cuddly animals are involved! Jeez! Where was she standing? What was she even doing with you? How'd you get her to go with you? What did you tell her?"

Irritation simmered beneath every word as the federal agent snapped, "I didn't say anything. I took her to a diner because it was pouring rain and she was soaked. She looked like a drowned kitten. I fed her, and we talked. She said something about being an oracle and needing to go to the Brooklyn Bridge to stop some people I know from going up against some guy. She said she could trust me because... because I was pure of heart, according to her. I brought her to the Bridge," he added, gesturing, "and she disappeared."

"Wait, she said she was an oracle? What?"

"Isn't she?" If this girl, this Siobhan, was supposed to take care of Aisling, like the blond girl had said, surely she knew about Aisling's supposed powers.

"No," Siobhan growled. Pain knifed through her side with every breath. Only the icy rain slapping her face kept her from closing her eyes and simply slumping to the concrete. "She's a twenty-one-year-old former coma patient with permanent brain-damage, event-specific amnesia, and severe social anxiety. And you're a _guy!_ There's no way she just _went_ with you. What did you do to her?"

"Look, I didn't do anything to her and I don't have time to deal with snarky teenage girls-"

"I am a twenty-two-year-old graduate student working on her Master's, you pompous douche bag. I'm a ranked officer in my university's ROTC and you'd better tell me what you did with Aisling or I will kick your skinny white ass into next week-"

"Myers?"

Siobhan's mouth snapped shut as a woman, her dark hair plastered to her lean face by the rain, approached from one of the pedestrian paths for the Brooklyn Bridge. The water seemed to slide right off the woman's black leather jacket and black leather pants, like raindrops on a tinted car windshield. More water dripped off the end of her nose and beaded on the silvery cross she wore around her neck. It was the woman Siobhan had seen on the giant wall of televisions. Even through the sheeting rain, there was no mistaking the warrior-princess build or the flame-blue eyes peering at the redhead and the so-called federal agent.

Wait. Had this woman just called the guy "Myers?" Was that really his last name? That had to be coincidence. A lot of coincidences had happened since she'd woken up lying on the rain-soaked grass of what had to be Central Park (at least, that's what the sign had said). The television broadcast about Hellboy and how horns were never a good thing; seeing the cosplayers dressed as Red, Abe, Liz, and Manning; running into this guy dressed up as Special Agent John Myers, complete with federal ID badge and very real-looking fake ID. All of these coincidences were starting to get on her nerves.

"Myers?" The woman asked again. Unlike most of the women Siobhan had overheard since stumbling into the Brooklyn Borough, she didn't have that twangy sort-of mobster accent. Unlike Selma Blair in the _Hellboy_ films, she didn't sound like one of those shy Harvard nerd-girls with no self-esteem, either. "Myers, what are you doing here?"

"Liz! Jeez, I was looking for you guys. She was right," John muttered, realizing that very fact. When the new girl, Siobhan, had denied the blonde's oracular powers, John had wondered if he'd lost his ever-loving mind. But now that Liz had made an appearance... "Aisling said you guys would be at the Bridge and here you are."

"Who's Aisling?" The dark-haired woman asked.

Siobhan growled, "Aisling's my sister, and she's _missing_, because _this_ moron lost track of her! Now I have to find her! Before she gets mugged or even more lost or raped or something."

Before Liz could say anything to the pale, irate young woman leaning heavily against the water-slick brick wall, John snagged the sleeve of her coat and pulled her aside. "Look," the FBI agent muttered. "Forget that girl for a minute. I think she _is_ Aisling's sister - er, her friend or whatever - but that's not important. Listen to this." Quickly, John outlined everything that had happened and everything he'd been told by the green-eyed waif he'd bumped into on the street. "She's convinced something horrible's gonna happen if Red goes into this Troll Market. You gotta call off the mission until we can talk to her."

"He already left," Liz replied. "He took Abe and this new guy we've got, Krauss, and they already went into the Troll Market. I can't even contact him; Krauss made him turn off his radio. Why? What could possibly happen? They're just there to do some investigating."

John raked a hand through his water-logged hair, spiking it. "I don't know. She seemed sure, though, and she knew things about me that no one could've known who didn't have some kind of insight into the BPRD. How else did she know Abe called me 'pure of heart?' How did she know Abe's nickname was Brother Blue? How the heck did she even _know_ about Abe? Or that HB's nickname is Red? Every instinct I've developed on the job is telling me Aisling's legit, Liz."

"What about the redhead- hey!" Liz shoved past him. John turned in time to see Siobhan stagger a couple feet and start to keel over. Liz managed to brace her so that instead of smacking into the wet concrete, both women slid slowly to the ground. "Hey, you all right? Can you hear me?"

"Yeah," Siobhan muttered. "Crap. I think I busted my ribs falling off that stupid roof."

John stared at her. "You fell off the roof? Of your house in Arizona? You and Aisling and Geoff?"

Pain-dulled, dark brown eyes flashed to John's face. "Yeah. How did you know that?"

"Aisling told me. Look, I don't know why you don't believe this, but I'm telling you the truth. My name is Special Agent John Myers. I work for the FBI. This is Special Agent Elizabeth Sherman. Aisling said she had to get to the Brooklyn Bridge. Why would she say that? What's at the Brooklyn Bridge?"

Siobhan clung to the dark-haired woman as she helped the injured girl back to her feet. It was coincidence that this woman looked identical to the Amazon Siobhan had seen on the wall of televisions earlier. "I don't know. We've never been to New York before. She's scared stiff of big cities." Every breath sent fire ripping through her torso. She wheezed, "She doesn't know anything about New York City, except that the Troll Market's supposed to be here. But she knows the Troll Market isn't real. She wouldn't come here to look for it."

"Are you sure?" John demanded, exchanging a look with Liz. "Are you absolutely sure?"

"Yes," Siobhan snapped. "I think I know my own foster-sister, jeez. She might be damaged, but she's not _that_ damaged. She knows the difference between what's real and what's not."

Unless... unless, when Aisling had tumbled off the roof, something had happened. Maybe she'd hit her head again. She'd already gotten a good smack when they'd been running from those freakish monsters that had broken into their house. What would another blow do to the fragile, barely-held-together bone at the back of her skull? Maybe the younger girl _couldn't_ tell the difference anymore.

Or maybe... maybe Aisling, because she was damaged, because she was so much younger in so many ways, had understood what was going on better than Siobhan ever could. Maybe the blond girl had woken up in New York City after a world-shaking storm and met a man who claimed his name was John T. Myers and worked for the FBI, and... and what? Siobhan couldn't force the words into her mind. They just would not compute.

Except it would explain so much. This woman supposedly named Liz Sherman. This guy, this fed with a name out of the movies. The weird jump they'd made from Arizona to New York. Even, maybe, the white coyote that had been leading Siobhan around all night until just before she'd found this John Myers guy.

"No freaking way," Siobhan whispered. She stared at John, at Liz, and for the first time all night, didn't feel the dull throbbing in her side. "No freaking way."

**.**

Wink stared at the tiny human hauling with all of its pitiful strength on his taut arm-chain, frantically trying to keep the teeth of the garbage-compactor from chewing up anymore of the faerie metal. Its pathetic attempt, even coupled with Wink's own ferocious efforts, did nothing. The compactor steadily consumed the thick chain inch by inch. The troll flicked his single eye from the human creature to his death looming before him. Was he truly going to die like this?

"Red, help! Red! Please help!" The human yelled. Wink's gaze flew back to it. Tears poured down its cheeks. Blood stained its tiny, dirt-smeared hands as well as the length of chain it held in its weak grip. When the chain shifted forward, yanking the human with it, it staggered and nearly tripped over its small feet. "_Red! Abe!_"

Who was it screaming for? Who in the Troll Market would help it? And why was it trying to help _him?_ These thoughts whirled through his mind as he hauled on the chain with all of his strength, desperate to keep as far away as possible from the metal teeth intent on chewing him up and spitting him out. Why did the human not let go? It was barely three yards from the compactor now. It would have to let go eventually, or be crushed, too. Or was it too stupid to realize that?

_Oh, you gotta be kiddin' me,_ Red thought, staring at the crying kid clutching desperately at the chain stretched taut across the wide alley. The weird lighting of the Troll Market glinted off the kid's tears as she struggled feebly to free the monster he'd just gotten done kicking the crap out of. The idiot had knocked out one of his teeth, for cryin' out loud! Yet there was this kid, cryin' her heart out, trying to save the guy. Red glanced down at the remnants of his Cuban cigar. Looked back at the weeping, obviously desperate girl. "Aw, crap." To Abe, the demon ordered, "Find a way to turn that thing off, would ya, Blue?"

Red strode to the chain, making sure to stand between the machine and the crying kid. He grasped the chain in his hand of stone and yanked as hard as he could. There was the shriek of metal grinding against metal. Red felt the chain behind him go slack. The girl staggered backward and nearly fell. The demon kept hauling on the chain. Only when the crushed mechanical hand crunched back through the teeth of the compactor did he relax his grip.

Wink eyed the demon warily as he ratcheted his arm back into its proper place. He attempted to bend the crushed fingers. Found he couldn't. No matter. At least he was alive. Why had the demon saved him? Because of the human? Wink took a moment to truly study the creature now that his life was no longer in danger.

As if sensing the troll's eye on it, the human turned around and met his gaze.

It felt as if a hammer had smashed right between his eye and the empty socket where his other eye had once been. Too-large eyes the color of unleaded glass stared at him with no little trepidation. Golden lashes framed those impossibly large eyes. Cracked spectacles no doubt magnified the eyes, as well. The girl was scraped up and blood and dirt smeared her cheeks, but none of that mattered to Wink. What mattered was what he sensed when he looked into those _eyes_.

Kinship. Impossible, unthinkable, and yet... Wink felt it. A visceral tightening in his belly. Heat in his chest, like battle-fire as two blades clashed. A predatory stirring and a reluctant acknowledgment because there was kinship here. Kinship, which meant sharing. Sharing, because the girl's kinship was not with _him,_ but with...

No. No, the Silverlance would never stand for it. It wasn't possible. He would never believe it, never accept it, never allow it. The girl was human. He would _not_ let this happen because _the girl was human_. The enemy. She couldn't be one of the rare individuals that made up the most trusted of a faerie royal's inner circle, couldn't be one of those rare creatures that carried the magic of being able to anchor a faerie royal's magic and sanity. She was _human!_

Yet she'd thrown herself between Wink and death. Why? For Wink's own sake? For Nuada's? Wink was the last of the fae Nuada had found and forged kinship with before his exile. The final war against the humans had taken all the others. Was the open-ended bond so strong because of that lack that a human had been gifted with the power to fill the emptiness? Had her part of the bond compelled her to save the troll? Was it that her own kinship had recognized the strength of Wink's connection to Nuada? Or was there another reason entirely?

Had Nuada seen her? Had she seen him? If not, what would happen when the crown prince of Bethmoora met the eyes of this mortal girl-child who carried the sorcerous bond?

"You better not attack me, buddy," Red snapped at the behemoth he'd just saved. He glared at the thing, because he had a feeling if he glared at the girl, she'd start crying. There was something fragile about her. The demon knew he'd feel like a jerk if he glared at her and she started to cry. And Liz would probably get mad at him. "Cop an attitude and I'll kick your ass again, even if your girlfriend turns on the waterworks."

The mammoth creature snarled at the demon and took a step toward him, brandishing the crumpled metal arm. Hellboy lifted his hand of stone. Offered the giant a one-fingered salute. The thing roared and started for him. The demon reached for the gun at his hip.

"No!" The girl darted between demon and troll, arms thrown wide. She kept her back to the troll so she could gaze beseechingly at Red. "Stop it!" She cried. Her voice quavered and her bottom lip trembled, but she stuck out her chin and met Red's eyes. He had to admit, he was kinda impressed. "Please? Don't hurt him! Please, please, don't hurt him! Pretty please?"

"Look, kid, he busted my cigar."

"So?" She demanded, exasperation mingling with dread in her voice. Clearly she wasn't impressed by that. Little thing like her, she probably thought smoking was the work of the devil or something. Hellboy sighed.

"He knocked out one of my teeth."

"It's a fist-fight," the girl replied without sympathy. "That's what happens. You messed up his hand and almost killed him, and you didn't even care! That's horrible! He's a person, too. People care about him. What if... what if he had a wife or kids or something? You don't know. What if you killed him, and he never comes home, and his wife doesn't have a husband anymore and his kids don't have a daddy? Then what? He wasn't trying to kill you! He just wanted you out of his way! And so what if he knocked out one of your teeth? At least he didn't kick you in the balls."

Well, she had him there. At least about the balls. The rest of it? Red wasn't so sure about that. "Look, kid, I appreciate your bleeding heart, but-"

"You're Hellboy. You're supposed to be a good guy," she said. The demon was about to brush her off, but something in her eyes made him hesitate. It was almost a look of betrayal. "You're a good guy. You're supposed to be nice to other good guys, and show mercy to bad guys unless you absolutely can't, and care about things. But you're just a bully!"

"Whoa, kid, come on. I'm not a bully."

"Then leave Wink alone!"

"He attacked me!"

"You didn't have to try to kill him! And he's not attacking you now! So leave him alone!"

Wink stared at the human girl standing between him and the red-skinned demon. How had she known his name? She knew his name, but not about his life. She didn't know whether he were married, or a father. Yet she knew his name. Did she know about the prince, then? The troll had no idea what to do with the girl. In all his centuries, he'd never heard of a human with kinship magic. Should he bring the girl to the Silverlance? The Elf prince could, perhaps, use the bond to read at least the surface of the girl's mind and find out the truth about her.

Yet what if Nuada killed the girl? The troll had no compunction about killing humans. They were and always had been the enemy, since before he'd taken service to the Bethmooran prince. The only reasons slaying the mortal would be a bad thing was that she was a child, and because of her kinship bond.

Once she and Nuada set eyes on each other, the bond would be cemented. Unbreakable. To lose someone bound by that ensorcelled link to death... every time such a thing had happened in the past, it had pushed Nuada one step closer to the madness of the magic in his blood, the madness many fae suppressed, but that the royals couldn't without help - the price royal fae paid for their power. If Nuada killed this girl...

Aisling shook so hard her teeth chattered. She tasted blood where she'd bitten her tongue. Still she didn't look away from Red. There was kindness in his eyes. It was a rough sort of kindness, a John Wayne kind of niceness, like a grouchy old man. She just had to convince him not to hurt Wink anymore. If she did, maybe Wink would leave Red alone, too. Then the Elf prince wouldn't be sad about Wink, and Red wouldn't make fun of him, and there would be no forest elemental wrecking everything.

After a moment, Red's hand came away from his gun. Aisling put her arms down. Maybe now she could get that stupid splinter out of her hand. She glanced at her palm. Saw fresh blood seeping from the cut she'd gotten on the roof. More blood oozed from the puncture in her palm. _Blood._ Too much blood. Bright red and smelling like new pennies. So red. Just like before. Like during the Break. Now pain throbbed through the back of her head and she suddenly felt dizzy, couldn't stand up, couldn't see straight...

Red lunged forward as the kid staggered a few steps and started to go down. The one-eyed behemoth got there first. He snagged the kid around the chest, keeping her from crashing into the puddles of water glistening on the wet cement. The demon glared. He didn't like the way the creature was holding the kid. Like a piece of luggage.

Wink rumbled at the human in Troll. She moaned softly and put the hand not crimson with blood to the back of her head. Was she injured? Or was Nuada injured? If she'd seen the prince already, if the kinship bond was strong enough, she might be able to feel what the prince was feeling.

"Owie," she mumbled. "Ow. My head. Ow. Siobhan..." Aisling used the thick tree branch she'd landed on to get upright again. Oh, wait. That wasn't a tree branch. It was Wink's arm, thick with muscle and the rough skin feeling like the bark of a gnarled oak tree.

She'd touched oak trees once, when Siobhan and Geoff had tried to take her up onto Mount Lemmon after the long Sleep, after the Break. She'd liked the trees until it started to get dark and she'd gotten lost. Separated somehow from her friends. Alone in the woods. She'd wandered in the dark, crying and stumbling over brush, skull screaming with pain centered in a four-inch knot at the back of her head, until she'd seen the light. A white glowy light, like the high-beams on a truck, or a mag-light. She'd followed the silvery white light until she'd met up with Geoff and Siobhan near their camp, and they'd gone home.

It felt like she was following a light now. She'd felt like that ever since meeting Wink's one eye. Aisling wondered what had happened to Wink's other eye. Had it been an accident? Been hurt in a fight? Had he been born like that? She really wanted to know. She wanted to know everything about the troll. Wanted to know why she felt safe when she looked into his eye - but only then. When Aisling looked at any other part of him, she didn't feel safe at all. She felt scared.

Still, she would pretend she wasn't scared. If somehow Wink was a bad guy - not just "the bad guy" from the movie, but actually bad - she didn't want him to know she was scared, because monsters and bad guys attacked when they thought someone was scared. And if he was a good guy, which the twenty-one-year-old was pretty sure he _was_, somehow, she didn't want him to think she was a scaredy-cat. So she closed her eyes, gritted her teeth, and yanked the splinter out before pressing her bleeding hand against her black sweater to soak up some of the blood; this way she wouldn't have to look at the awful, awful redness of it. Aisling looked up at Wink.

"Thank you for catching me," she whispered. "Thanks. Are you okay?"

The troll cocked his head and studied her for a long time. Then he poked her in the shoulder. She stumbled back a step. Unsure of what to do, she poked him back, but she couldn't reach his shoulder, so she poked the boiled leather armor wrapped around his belly. The troll sighed. Pointed at himself.

"Wink," he rumbled in a voice like a small avalanche. He poked her in the shoulder again.

"Oh! I'm Aisling," she said. "Ay-aye-ess-elle-aye-en-gee. And that's Red," she added with a smile, pointing at the demon, who glared at the troll. The girl pointed at the blue fish-man coming up behind the demon. A beautiful blond woman with silvery blond hair, golden at the tips, was at his side. "And that's Abraham Sapien. There really _is_ such a name, Your Highness," she added, no longer smiling. The blond woman jerked in surprise.

Aisling turned back to Wink and leaned in so the others couldn't hear her. "You can't take the princess right now," the girl whispered to Wink. His eye widened. "Red will hurt you again. And he won't listen to me again. You should tell the prince so he knows. If he does what he's thinking, he'll lose. And he'll get killed. You've gotta protect him."

Wink stared at the human girl-child, stunned. She knew his name and knew he'd been sent by the prince to capture the princess. What else did she know? Would she tell the demon and his allies? No. Even if they tortured her, the connection of kinship would prevent her from betraying Nuada. Or it ought to. Would her human blood change the rules?

The troll frowned. She seemed harmless enough. Guileless. Like a small child. How old was she? Eleven summers? Twelve? She was a tiny thing, her face level with his chest, just above where the Royal Seal of Bethmoora rested against his armor. Perhaps twelve years old? He'd have actually guessed younger by her behavior and the way she spoke, but her body bespoke at least being that old. Could she be trusted in the prince's lair?

Coming to a decision, he poked her again, pointed at himself. Grabbed her shoulder and gave her a push away from the three men - another had arrived, in a strange tin and canvas contraption with a glass bowl over his head - that surrounded the princess. "Come," he growled to the girl in the Troll tongue. He would take her to Nuada. Let the prince decide what to do with her.

The girl slipped out of his grip. Shook her head. "I can't," she said. "I have to find my friends. They're probably looking for me."

He grabbed her arm, hard enough to let her know he was serious, but not so hard as to hurt her - so long as she didn't struggle. Hurting her could, possibly, hurt the Silverlance. Wink wasn't sure. Wouldn't be able to find out until the prince looked into the human girl's eyes. The troll growled, "_Come_."

"No!" She yanked at his grip, to no avail. "No! I can't! I have to find Geoff and Siobhan! No!" Her distress resonated in the air because of the kinship bond, washing over Wink like icy ocean waves. A moment ago she'd been cheerful and smiling. Now there was only petrified desperation as he forced her to take a step. Another. "No, I can't! Please! Wink, I can't! Where-"

"Hey! Buddy!"

Wink came to a halt. Turned slowly to look over his shoulder at the demon. The demon's weapon was out again, aimed right at the troll's back. Wink roared.

Red cocked his head. "The little lady said 'no.'" He cocked back the hammer on the Samaritan. "She's comin' with us. Be a gentleman and let her go."

Aisling's eyes went wide. _Oh, no! No, they can't fight! No! Oh, stop! Stop!_ Pain lanced the back of her skull as her heart-rate surged. Swallowing, she tapped Wink hard on the arm to get his attention. The troll fixed his good eye on her. Placing one small hand on his thick hide, she popped up on tiptoe so she could whisper to him.

"You can't fight them right now," she hissed. "They'll kill you. Red can't be beat. He's the best. You have to warn the prince so he knows he's gotta try something else. If you get killed, he'll be so sad. You can't fight Red. I'll come back," she added, nodding to show him how serious she was. "After I find my friends. I promise. Pinkie promise." The mortal held up a fist, the smallest finger extended. "Can't break a pinkie promise. But I gotta find my friends. And I think Red can help me. But I promise I'll come back." She wiggled her little finger. "You hook your pinkie around my pinkie and then it's a pinkie promise. Let me go with them, and I promise I'll come back later. Unless I get struck by lightning and die or something."

Eyeing her, Wink carefully hooked his third finger around her slender pinkie. He had no intention of letting her simply wander off with the demon, the fish-man, the gas-bag, and the traitorous princess. Not a defenseless creature possessing kinship with his liege lord. But her panic, still sizzling in the air, was distracting. He would need all of his wits about him in order to follow the party to wherever they meant to take the girl and the princess without alerting them to his presence.

"Cross my heart," the girl said, making an X across her chest with the forefinger of her free hand. Then she made an odd flapping motion in front of her heart. "Hope to fly." She touched a fingertip to the pale skin just beneath her left eye socket. "Stick a cupcake in my eye."

He let her go, and gave her a gentle - for a troll - shove toward the demon. Using his full strength would've pitched the human forward into a puddle. Wink just couldn't be sure if harming the girl would injure the prince in some way. He had no idea how deep or how shallow the kinship bond would be, since the girl was mortal. Being so young would no doubt have a strange effect on the bond as well. Usually kinship was forged between two people near the same age, or at least two people who had both entered adulthood. Rarely, if ever, did it find a home within a child like this one.

Aisling knew Red was supposed to be a good guy. Knew he wouldn't hurt her. Abe certainly wouldn't. The fish-man blinked at her with large, dark eyes that were surprisingly friendly despite being solid black. She knew both men were nice. But she couldn't help looking over her shoulder at Wink as she walked to the red-skinned demon. Would he be okay? For some reason, leaving the troll felt like leaving home when it was nice, warm, and cozy, and venturing out into the coldest monsoon rain.

Wink watched the girl walk away, still looking over her shoulder at him occasionally. She even waved at him, a melancholy and childlike gesture that surprised the troll. The moment he was certain they wouldn't be able to see him, he signaled to one of the Market boggarts Nuada used for message-running, sent them to find the prince, and then took off amongst the fae crowd, hot on the heels of the demon who'd dared to steal the human that belonged to Bethmoora's crown prince.

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_**Author's Note:**_ _so this is very different from pretty much any fanfic I've ever written. It's sort of an experiment. For one thing, I've never written a fanfic_ with _another person before. I've written a fanfic that had scenes written by other writers - like_ Once Upon a Time, _which has some guest writers every now and then - but never co-written a chapter or a story with another writer. And I've never written a fanfic where one of the MCs was mentally handicapped. So... there's that. What do you guys think so far? Reviews are love, lol._


	6. Kinship

_**Author's Note:**__ so we know we haven't updated in... what, 2 months? Something like that. LA's other HB fic has been taking up a lot of time, as has a lot of real-life stuff. Anyway, so here's the latest chapter. Things come to a head here, and our girls get into some serious trouble. We ask for your trust, and your patiences, because we promise you, we're not going to turn this into a Mary-Sue Fic if we can help it. Loves to you all!_

_- LA Knight and IK Scott_

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**Chapter Five**

**Kinship**

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_1:34 AM_

For something so massive, Wink slipped through the crowded faerie bazaar with all the ease of an oiled eel sliding through a predator's claws. Despite his impressive size, he moved with the shadowy grace of a stalking cat, following after the demon and the others. The princess slipped and slid through the crowd with the same liquid grace inherent in all Elves. The demon barreled through the crowd like a battering ram - not quickly, but with uncompromising force. The fish-man was as slippery as his less humanoid cousins, and the gas-bag seemed intent on berating the demon over something and took no care where he stepped.

Wink didn't follow them. He followed the dirty, stringy blond hair that caught the eerie unlight of the Troll Market, the flash of greenish glow on broken spectacle lenses. The human girl didn't know he was there, of course. Her gaze, whenever she glanced back, was not searching, but forlorn. Like a puppy left in its kennel while its adored master left on some journey. There was a melancholy hope in the scraped, pasty face as she peered back over her shoulder, trying to catch one last glimpse of the troll.

He shadowed them to the entrance to the Troll Market. Cloaked himself in a simple "don't look at me" glamor and slipped through the creaking gate to track them into the abandoned meat locker. The glamor should have kept him safe. Should have helped him to avoid detection.

But something black and shiny as a beetle and nearly as large as the red-skinned demon skittered toward him like a flash of black lightning out of the corner of his eye. Wink spun, bringing up his busted metal arm. Remembered too late that it didn't work properly anymore. Then the creature, spider-like mandibles chittering and taloned limbs clawing at the air, was on him.

Over the bellow of his roar and the screeches of the creature snapping its venom-slicked teeth at his face, he heard a petrified squeaking that sounded like a boggart, and the terrified, high-pitched scream of a young girl.

**.**

_1:42 AM_

Nuada could not settle. Could not focus his mind on anything but the path in the front of him - finding his sister. She had stolen not one, but _both_ pieces of the Golden Crown and run away with them. Where she intended to go, he didn't know. Nor could he discover her whereabouts through their connection.

While his twin possessed powerful telepathy, Nuada did not. His gift for mind-touch extended only to his sister and, to a _much_ smaller degree, Wink - and that was a connection that required a great deal of power to forge, and was only possible because of the magic of royal kinship.

And despite the mystical link that bound the prince to Nuala, at this distance he could not force himself into her mind to find her, not while she was on the move. It seemed as if, at the moment, she had no set destination in mind, so he could not pluck the information from her thoughts, either. All he knew was that she was somewhere in the sprawling Troll Market. He could feel _that_ much from her, at least.

Wink would find her. Wink, shield-brother, comrade-in-arms, would find Nuala and bring her and the Crown pieces back to him. His sister would try to stop him, no doubt - attempt to reason with him, persuade him against raising the Army. She would no doubt be blinded by the so-called innocent blood she imagined stained his hands. His twin had always been the merciful one. The compassionate one.

The prince knew he would have to ignore her attempts to plead with him. He would have to stay true to his purpose. There was no hope for the fae if he did not press on in this path. Without the Golden Army, the fae had no hope of winning against the humans with their new forms of world-breaking weaponry.

His lip curled in disgust as he paced. The things mortals created to destroy those who opposed them; it sickened him. Chemical warfare that poisoned the water and the very air the humans breathed; nuclear weapons that saturated the world with long-lived poisons no amount of earth-healing could wash away. Never mind the simple explosive devices that possessed the power to shatter the very bones of the earth. Against such infernal devices, the fae stood no chance without the Army.

At least this way, however, no one he loved had to die for him to get his hands on the three Crown pieces. That single stumble upon the path he'd set for himself had haunted his longest nights and darkest thoughts, prowling in the shadows of his mind along with the grief that never faded. Nuada had been fairly certain that his father would stand in his way. The only road past that obstacle had been a path drenched in the blood of nearly everyone the crown prince loved, save two. Wink and Nuala. She, he could never harm. But his father...

In a choice between his people and his father, his kingdom and his king... he would choose his people. He would forsake his father. Honor decreed it so. Loyalty decreed it so. Nuada's loyalty to the fae, and to the ones bound to him by magic and love and fealty - the ones he had lost, one by one, throughout the war, until only Wink remained. He owed it to _them_ to put an end to what the humans were doing to the world. The prince would not let those bitter deaths be in vain.

There was a scrabbling and a scritching sound at the entryway to the lair he and Wink currently shared beneath the Troll Market. Nuada ceased his pacing and turned toward the stone archway in time to see two boggarts rush in and bow before him. The diminutive, twig-like, double-headed faeries chattered at him, practically hopping up and down in their excitement.

"_Up there, in Troll Market-_" One, a little fellow named Puckle, yelped in the chirping language of the boggarts, pointing back the way they'd come.

"_No, no!_" The second, a tiny female named Angwyn, contradicted. "_Over there, not over there! Over there, great big demon-_"

"_But the girl stop him! And Wink said tell prince-_"

"Do you have something you want to tell me?" The crown prince asked gently in Gaelic. He knew if he spoke calmly, it would soothe the boggarts' frazzled nerves enough that they would begin to actually make some sense. "What did Wink want you to tell me?"

Both boggarts bowed to him again. Angwyn was the one that finally spoke. "_He fought demon! Would have died, but girl came!_"

"What girl?" A faerie girl had saved Wink from a demon? What kind of girl - they had said girl, not woman - could have stood her ground before a demon that even Wink could not stand against? "What demon? Why?"

"_Demon,_" Puckle replied. "_Big red monkey demon with stone hand! He and fish-man and tin-man stole princess away. Wink try to stop them! Demon fight him! Wink get stuck in trash-machine._"

"_But girl save him_," Angwyn cried. "_Demon take girl away, too. Wink say he follow. Get girl and princess back. Girl belong to prince, Wink say. But different. You come, too. Help. To Troll Market gate._"

The girl... belonged to him? Nuada remembered the strange taste to the air as he had slipped into Blackwoods' Auction House earlier that night. The scent of magic and premonition on the air, mingling with the acid sting of the poisonous city rain. Magic and premonition. An omen, but for good or ill?

And he remembered the war against the humans. Remembered chains of magic and chains of love snapping under the guillotine blade of Death, leaving ragged threads vainly attempting to seal countless bleeding soul wounds as, one by one, those who claimed kinship with the crown prince fell beneath the weapons of the enemy, until only one remained. Only the anchor of Wink, and Nuada's own mythic bond with his twin, had kept his sanity from unraveling under the onslaught of loss and royal fae power.

The girl _belonged_ to him? Wink would recognize the potential for such a bond in another. Could it be... was it possible... possible that after thousands of years, he had found one of those rare fae capable of serving as both leash and anchor to the power of a faerie royal, one of those capable of submitting themselves wholly to that royal in turn?

All fae possessed magic to some degree, of course. In the olden days before mankind's taint had leeched the magic out of the world, faeries had been capable of great and wondrous things. The Fair Folk had had a hand in creating things of legend - the sword _Dyrnwyn_, whose blade would burst into flame if drawn by one of noble blood; _Car Morgan Mwynfawr_, a chariot that could cross the world almost in an eye blink; _Llen Arthyr yng Nghernyw_, the wraith-cloak that hid the one who wore it from the eyes of his enemies; _Claíomh Solais_, the sword against which no one could stand; and yes, even _Airm Órga_, the Golden Army.

Before the rise of the children of men, before they'd infected the world with their sickness, such magic had been prevalent throughout the world. And no fae held such vast power and such deep magic as the royals of fae. But with that magic came a price.

To touch such potent magic when needed exacted little toll on a fae. To have liquid lightning running through the veins along with the salt-less, iron-less royal blood was something else entirely. That power could burn through the physical shell that housed it with all the heat of a wildfire, leaving nothing but ash behind. It could sing through the mind, drawing thoughts down dark corridors in the psyche, leaving the brain open to the madness inherent in every fae. No amount of study or practice could prevent either possibility. Only kinship.

The bond of kinship linked the mind of a royal to the minds of their vassals. Not all of their bond-servants, of course, but a rare and precious few. This link did not bestow telepathy or any other such invasive mental connection. Yet somehow, the bonded vassal gained intuition into the mind and needs of their liege lord or lady. Sometimes there was a two-way empathy when in the presence of the bonded royal - and always, both royal and vassal found comfort and stability in the company of each other - but that was all. No fae scholar had ever been able to explain just _how_ kinship worked. Only that without it, royal magic was dangerous and untrustworthy, and would eventually lead either to death or madness.

And this girl that had somehow saved Wink... belonged to Nuada. Belonged to him, as Wink did. As Conn and Manannán and Fionn and Dian Cécht and the others once had, before being murdered by humans. This girl belonged to him.

Nuada snatched up his light, boiled-leather armor stamped with black-washed faerie metal and donned it quickly - half-brigandine, vambraces, greaves. Sheathed his lance at his back. Tied on the Royal Crest and belted his sword at his waist. For the first time since learning how his father had attempted to betray him, he felt a sliver of hope. Wink had his sister in his sights. Not only that, but he had found... something impossible. One gifted with kinship with the crown prince.

By dawn, Nuada would have his twin back. He would have both Crown pieces. And he would have the very necessary comfort and anchor of a freshly-forged bond with another of his own kind, something he had not known - save with Wink - in centuries.

He slipped out of the lair like a shadow and melted into the milling crowds of the Troll Market, aiming for the gates with all the implacable purpose of a hound catching the scent of prey.

**.**

Red shoved Aisling back, away from the heaving mass of darkness, as the demon surged forward and drew his gun. The human girl tripped over her own two feet and hit the pavement. Her head cracked against the cement. A flash of pain ripped across the back of her skull. It locked her second petrified scream in her throat. She froze, unable to think. Then Wink roared again. Red swore. Somewhere in the distance, beyond the edges of the pain throbbing in Aisling's head, a woman screamed.

The recurring sound of the troll's infuriated roars galvanized her. Aisling struggled to her elbows, then her hands. Scrambled back in a crab-scuttle that threatened to tangle up her arms and legs. She couldn't tear her eyes from the sight of the familiar black monsters lunging for Red and bearing down on Wink. Pain burned across the twenty-year-old's palms as the pavement scraped across her hands.

She had to get up! Had to get up _right now!_ Monsters, there were monsters, if she didn't get up they would get her! They'd followed her somehow all the way from Arizona and into the movie to New York and now they would get her, they would kill her and hurt Red and maybe kill Wink and if Wink died, the prince would wake up the forest elemental and Siobhan... and Geoff... she had to get up! Had to _do_ something!

From the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of blue. Abe grabbed the princess, who was only staring at the skittering, chittering monsters with their rotting garbage stink and jerky movements and chitinous heads, and yanked her back. Panic lanced Aisling's chest. They were _leaving_ her! And leaving Red and Wink! They were _leaving_! She struggled to her feet. Tripped as everything swam around her in rollercoaster waves that made her stomach churn. Abe was a good guy, he wasn't supposed to _leave_! And what about Krauss? What about Manning? What about Liz? Wasn't Liz in love with Red? Shouldn't she be there? Shouldn't _someone_ be there?

Aisling tripped as the ground heaved under her feet. She hit her knees on the concrete, ripping her leggings again. Fresh blood stained the cloth. Her hand landed palm-down mere inches away from a piece of glittering, jagged glass. A tortured sound like talons punching through a sheet of metal sent fear screaming through her.

"Aisling!"

Her head shot up. Her eyes went wide in disbelief, hope... then absolute relief and joy. She staggered to her feet. Stumbled. Then she sprinted across the few short feet that stood between her and the person she loved more than anyone else in the whole entire world.

When she collided with someone warm, comforting, someone drenched to the skin with rain, strong arms wrapped around her and held her close. Aisling buried her face in the space between neck and shoulder and sobbed against the rain-slick skin. "Siobhan," she murmured, crying. "Siobhan, Siobhan, Siobhan."

"It's okay," the other girl murmured, hugging her "sister" closer. "It's okay. I'm here now. It's okay, Ash. I'm here."

"What about Geoff?" Aisling whimpered against her friend's neck. "Where's Geoff? Is he with you?"

"No," Siobhan said, tightening her grip a little on the other girl. "I don't know where Geoff is. We all got separated."

Behind Aisling, a troll bellowed in challenge. Aisling gasped and whirled around. "Wink!"

The black insect-like creatures swarmed the fae behemoth. Silvery-gray blood spattered the pavement, gleaming in the fluorescent light. With his hand of flesh, the troll reached up and ripped one of the monsters off his back, slamming it into the cement with a sick, wet _crunch_. He left it twitching and oozing dark ichor on the ground while he wrestled with another creature.

Aisling strained toward him. Fear glued her feet to the concrete but her entire body yearned toward the troll. Everything in her jumped and jangled together, trying to force her to take a step forward. Her shoes scuffed against the pavement as her feet dragged. One hand stretched out, trembling. The cool, damp night air stung the scrapes on her palms.

"Wink," she whispered. Something burned in her stomach - a driving, relentless _need_. She had to help him. Had to save him. If he died, the prince would be so sad, and then he would unleash the elemental, and she would lose everyone, she'd be all alone forever. Siobhan and Geoff and Wink and...

Her toe kicked something that _tinked_ against the concrete. Aisling glanced down. A blade of broken glass gleamed up at her. What if...?

"Ash, what are you doing?" Siobhan yelped as her sister jerked toward the ground and scooped up something that glinted cruelly in the pale light of the overhead fluorescents. "Ash, put that down before you hurt yo-" The words were cut off abruptly by Aisling's yelp of pain as the younger girl clamped her hand tight around the jagged edges of the glass. Blood, bright red against her pale skin, seeped between her fingers to drip onto the ground at her feet.

A stygian monster's venom-slicked claws had been aiming for Wink's jugular, when suddenly the creature's thrashing halted. It turned its eyeless, featureless face toward the small human girl clutching a blood-slicked bit of broken glass in her crimson-stained hand. She stared at the thing with wide eyes from behind a pair of cracked coke-bottle glasses. The scent of her blood, rich and reeking of fresh meat, caught the attention of the night gaunt and its fellows. They started toward her at a spider-quick scuttle.

Aisling shrieked and jerked backwards, tripping over her feet again and smacking butt-first into the concrete. The piece of broken glass skidded across the ground. It left a gleaming scarlet trail in its wake. Her glasses slipped off her nose. Hot pain throbbing like a rotten tooth through her lacerated palm, Aisling struggled to get to her hands and knees in order to crawl away.

Something icy and slick flicked around her ankle. Yanked her backwards. She screamed and her face nearly collided with the dirty cement. Another slimy tentacle-like thing wrapped twice around her other ankle. They began to drag her backwards. She flailed and screamed and sobbed, clawing at the pavement with her bruised and bleeding hands. Fresh pain sparked in one finger when a nail was ripped from the nail-bed.

A hideous and infuriated roar almost seemed to make the ground shake under Aisling's body. From the corner of her blurry vision she saw light flashing against silver. Antiphonal shrieking rent the air. The ropey tentacles lashing her ankles suddenly loosened. Aisling rolled and jerked, managing to finally clamber to her feet and scuttle away towards the relative safety of several stackes of wooden crates lining the walls. She scrunched down, wedged herself between them, and only then squirmed until she could look around enough to see the fight.

Wink and Siobhan were working away at the small army of monsters.

Siobhan hacked and slashed with her short _tantō_. She knew what she was doing, but the shorter weapon meant the monsters always got close enough to claw her up before she could drive the blade deep into the enemy's body over and over again. The silvery blade was smeared with sickly green gore. Didn't matter. She had to kill these _things_ so she could get to Aisling and get them both out of there so they could find Geoff.

Wink, who'd gotten his feet back under him, didn't bother with finesse, either. He simply reached down, lifted up a creature, and caved in its chitinous skull. Dark sludge coated his flesh hand and dripped from his fingers.

Red and Abe were fighting the monsters on their end, too. The _blam-blam-blam!_ of the demon's large gun made Aisling's ears ring until all she could hear was a deafening silence marred only by the gentle shushing of her blood pounding through her head. Her hand was screaming. Blood pooled in her palm and spilled down her wrist to stain her sleeve. It soaked into the frothy layers of her skirt and stained the stretchy cotton leggings she wore beneath it. Struggling not to cry in case the bad guys could hear her, she yanked on her sweater so she could wrap the soaking wet material around the injury and try to staunch the blood without looking at the awful redness of it.

The twenty-one-year-old wondered if she'd finally cracked and gone crazy, just like she'd always been scared of. She'd thought the glass would be a good idea because she'd seen it in a movie. In lots of movies. When the monsters were trying to eat people, sometimes you could distract them with blood, and then they'd be distracted enough that the good guys could kill them. And she thought it might've worked, but... but now her hand throbbed in tandem with her heart and she felt lightheaded and sick. It'd been a bad idea. Way bad idea. Everything seemed to be swimming. Aisling closed her eyes.

Slowly, while her blood continued to soak the cloth of her sweater and her legs started aching from the cramped space she'd wedged herself into, her hearing began to return to normal. Red had stopped firing his gun. Now the big demon just used his hand of stone to smash the last of the gaunts attacking him. Wink and Siobhan dispatched the last of theirs, as well.

The twenty-two-year-old redhead glanced around after gracelessly stabbing the last of the monsters to death. Blood oozed from several ugly cuts on her arms, neck, and face. Crimson dripped into her eyes along with sweat and rainwater. She dashed it away and peered around. Where was Aisling?

Siobhan focused on that - on finding her no-doubt terrified younger "sister" - instead of on the mountainous creature several feet away. There was no way the bristly gray beast was animatronic. Nothing mechanical moved _that_ smoothly. And it wasn't a guy in costume, either. Too tall, for one thing. And it bled some kind of strange silvery fluid. But Siobhan wouldn't think about that now. She wouldn't think about that _ever_ if she had her way. Right now, she was only going to think about Aisling.

"Ash?" Siobhan called, taking an unsteady step. Tiny rivulets of blood dribbled down her neck to soak her already-drenched shirt. More blood trickled down her shaking arms. Her side ached something fierce. The _tantō_ felt almost unbearably heavy in her hand. She didn't let it go, however. Only tightened her grip until her hands hurt. "Aisling?"

Dark eyes caught a flurry of movement off to one side by a wall. The short Japanese blade was up and ready before the exhausted college studen realized it was Aisling squirming on forearms and knees from between several wooden boxes like a caterpillar emerging from a splintery cocoon.

The blond girl staggered to her feet. Swayed. Stumbled a few steps sideways before fetching up against the icy stone wall. Siobhan stared at her for a moment, unable to think what could be wrong. Why was Aisling so pale?

Her little sister tripped several times as she made her way toward where Siobhan stood. Finally, shoulders hunched and breathing hard, her skin damp with cold sweat and rainwater, pale cheeks smudged with grime, Aisling tentatively held out one hand. Siobhan watched as scarlet pooled in the lacerated palm before overflowing to spatter the ground with tiny _pit-pat_ sounds. Tears welled up in Aisling's big green eyes. Then she rushed forward and threw her arms around Siobhan, heedless of the blood running along her skin.

"Gah!" The older girl yelped. "Ribs! Ribs!"

"I like ribs," Aisling said in a small voice. "With barbecue sauce. When we get home, can we have some?"

"Maybe," the redhead wheezed. "I dunno. M'glad you like ribs, dear, but you're breaking mine."

Aisling jerked back. "Are you hurt?"

The redhead sucked in a breath that made her side yelp. "Nothin' serious. Gimme your hand." Siobhan sheathed the _tantō_ without cleaning it, even though she knew she'd reap Hell later. She took Aisling's hand and glanced around dazedly for something to wrap it with.

"Here," said a gentle voice beside her. Siobhan turned slightly and nearly jumped out of her skin when she met the alien golden eyes of a pale woman with silvery blond hair holding out a handkerchief. After a moment of staring, the redhead gingerly snagged the embroidered square of white linen and, after making a cloth pad with a strip from her own ripped shirt, wrapped it all around Aisling's bleeding hand.

"Thanks," Siobhan muttered, refusing to look at the woman in the blue dress standing next to her. Refusing to look at anybody except Aisling. There was _not_ a gray troll-like monster grumbling and rumbling a few feet away. There was _not_ a red-skinned demon with shaved horns lighting a cigar off to her left. There was _not_ an Elven princess standing next to her, and there was _not_ a blue-skinned fishy guy with an invisible sign over his head that practically screamed "Nerd."

Unfortunately, the demon that wasn't there approached the two girls, puffing away at his cigar. He didn't even do Siobhan the favor of standing where she couldn't see him. Instead he came to stand right next to Aisling so he could stare down at her.

"Kid," he muttered around his cigar, "you tryin' to get yourself killed or somethin'?"

Aisling shook her head. "I was trying to be a diver."

"A what?"

"A diversion," Siobhan supplied, tying the ends of the handkerchief together atop the cloth pad. Already the snowy linen and the royal blue cotton were stained with splotches of red. How deep was the cut? Would she need stitches? A hospital? _No way is she going for that little idea,_ the exhausted woman thought. "She meant 'diversion.'"

"Yeah, a diversion." Aisling nodded, strings of dirty, wet blond hair flying. Then she pressed her mostly-uninjured hand to her forehead. "Ow."

Siobhan mumbled, "Don't do that, Ash. You know it gives you a migraine."

The blond girl hunched her shoulders against the mild rebuke and didn't speak for a long moment. Finally, though, she asked a question that dropped into the almost-silence like a stone into a pool. "Where's Wink?"

**.**

Nuada was halfway across the Troll Market when one of the boggarts, a little fellow named Thistledown, scurried up to him, squeaking, tiny crystal tears running down his face. The Elven prince slowed and knelt, oblivious to the grime and damp of the Market "streets." He offered the boggart his hand. The little fae scrabbled onto his palm and chittered in fear.

"_Wink is dead! Wink is dead! Up there!_" A toothpick-skinny arm flung out. A miniscule finger jabbed and pointed. "_It attacked him! The demon-_"

The words fuzzed out into a sort of soft, dull roar as Nuada rose unsteadily to his feet. Pain, icy and sharp, choked him. Clawed at his throat so that he had to swallow back words and a savage cry of denial. It felt like swallowing glass.

Why hadn't he _felt_ Wink's death? The kinship bond should have told him... should have alerted him... why hadn't he felt Wink die? Could the boggart be wrong? Was Wink still alive, but hurt? How badly?

Fury swept through him until he saw the world through a crimson haze. It didn't matter if Wink was dead or merely hurt. Whoever was responsible would pay for it.

With that promise burning inside his skull, Nuada set the still-squeaking boggart down out of the way of pedestrian traffic and set off once more toward the entrance to the Troll Market, rescue and retribution the prevailing thoughts roaring in his head.

**.**

"Where's Wink?"

A gasp from the woman who was not, _couldn't_ be, an Elf, standing next to Siobhan. "No." Her voice was like water running smooth and sweet over crystal, even though she was afraid. "Oh, no, he's gone to fetch my brother. We must leave this place immediately. He cannot get his hands on the two Crown pieces."

Aisling jumped as if she'd been stuck by a pin. "The Crown piece?" Bleary green eyes fixed on Nuala, peering at her with a sudden strange intensity. The unfocused green orbs roved over the princess's face as if searching for an answer to a riddle. Something flashed across the girl's pale face - mild disappointment. Then the girl turned to the red-haired woman at her side and yanked on her shirt. "Siobhan, the Crown piece!"

"Ash-" Siobhan began, because they were _not_ in a freaking movie, darn it, when the big red guy who she absolutely refused to believe was a demon poked Aisling in the shoulder with one finger.

"You know somethin' about all this, kid?"

Aisling nodded, more slowly this time. Remembering what Siobhan had said what seemed like forever ago while they'd been watching the movie, she said, "You've gotta melt 'em!" She cried. "Get Liz to do it. She's here, right? Somewhere. Get her to melt the piece." Suddenly Aisling blinked. Scrunched up her face. She pressed her hands to her forehead and rubbed her temples with bruised fingers. A look of pain passed over her face. "No. Not the piece. The... more than one. You said..." She looked back at Nuala. "You said 'pieces.' You have all of them?"

Startled, the Elven princess shook her head. "I have two. My brother has the third. He cannot get his hands on the other two or he'll-"

"Raise the Golden Army, wreak havoc, wipe out the human race, blah-blah," Siobhan muttered, putting an arm around Aisling. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to take Aisling, find Geoff, and go home to Arizona. And maybe ream out that stupid imaginary coyote while she was at it.

But these... people, who may or may not have been cosplayers, seemed at home in this city. This seemed to be their turf. Siobhan knew being stuck in a strange place with Aisling in tow meant they'd need at least a little bit of help getting their hands on the third member of their little family. These people were obviously crazy... but then again, there were those creatures. The insectoid corpses were still twitching on the ground all around them. She had the scrapes and cuts to prove _those_ freaky things were real. So what did that mean, exactly?

"Melt the pieces," Aisling insisted, then jumped like someone had jabbed her again and glanced warily around. Lowering her voice, she added, "It happened that way... in a... um..." The younger girl floundered, huddling against Siobhan. "Red, you gotta melt the pieces, quick! Before _he_ comes. Or else..."

"Aisling?" A familiar voice had the blond girl whirling around. A bright beaming smile bloomed across her face as she recognized the speaker.

"John!" She turned back to Red and the others. "John will tell you." She nodded sagely. "He knows I'm right."

"Right about what?" John demanded, drawing near the group with Liz at his side. "What the hell happened? What _are_ those things? What happened to your hand? You okay? Why'd you run off like that? The city's dangerous, you could've been killed!"

Aisling hunched her shoulders and ducked her head. "I saw Red. I didn't want to lose him. I had to stop him. I-"

"Apparently," Siobhan drawled, tucking Aisling against her side to shield her from another chastisement, "there's no time for explanations. Ash says we have to melt those," she pointed at the two glittering gold pieces Nuala wore in the sash around her waist, "or the Apocalypse will draw nigh. So says Aisling. Red and the others are a bit doubtful."

_I must be crazy,_ the twenty-two-year-old grumbled to herself. _I must be out of my mind, but if it keeps Aisling from having a panic attack and losing her marbles, then I'll do whatever she needs me to do._

_Very good, warrior,_ said a familiar and irritating voice. From the corner of her eye, Siobhan caught a flash of white fur and the gleam of copper eye. _You do not believe - yet. But you would do much for the healer. That is good. She will need such protection. And_ you _will need the power of her belief._

John glanced at the petite girl who claimed to be an oracle. So far she'd been spot on regarding the BPRD presence not only in Brooklyn, not only beneath the Brooklyn Bridge, but actually _in_ the Troll Market. If she said something needed to be done... maybe they should listen?

"She's an oracle," the male BPRD agent said softly. "So far, she hasn't been wrong. I dunno, though."

"These Crown pieces represent the truce between your world and ours," Nuala said. "To destroy them would-"

"Wouldn't hurt the truce!" Aisling insisted. "You can't hurt promises by hurting things. They don't work like that. Duh. That's why promises are promises and not 'stuff!'" If she noticed the confused looks the others were giving her, she didn't let on. "But if you destroy the pieces, they can't be used for anything bad, which is what you're scared of, right? So can't Liz melt them? You can melt them, can't you, Liz?"

"I... could..." Liz said, glancing at Red. "What d'you think, Red?"

"Agent Hellboy," Krauss snapped. "Do not even think about it! We cannot make such an important decision on our own! We have no idea if this girl is even who she says she is."

The demon scratched his chin. "Myers vouches for her. That's good enough for me. Anyway, destroy the key to a potentially all-powerful weapon so the bad guy can't use it? I'm all for that. Hand it over, ma'am."

Nuala glanced uncertainly at Abe. The fish-man said, "If Red and Agent Myers think it's a good idea, it should work. And the young lady has a point. You cannot destroy a promise or an oath by destroying the object that represents that oath. Especially as the human world has forgotten what the Crown pieces mean in the first place-"

"No more talking!" Aisling cried. "Just do it, hurry! Before he comes!" She pressed a hand to the back of her head. Tears pooled at the corners of her eyes. "Come _on!_"

Siobhan growled, "If you're gonna do it, just do it, already! You're freaking her out."

"I absolutely forbid it," Krauss snapped.

"Can it, Gas Bag," Red replied.

"What... _what_ did you call me?"

Siobhan suddenly yelled, "For crying out loud, just _do_ it!" Aisling had her face tucked against Siobhan's shoulder. The smaller girl trembled and kept muttering, "Hurry, hurry, hurry," in a voice like a whisper of autumn leaves on stone.

With a flame-blue glare in Siobhan's direction, Liz took the two golden pieces from Princess Nuala and closed her eyes. With a flick of power, her hands ignited in the caressing heat of her fire. Liz opened her eyes. Watched as the two bits of gold warmed, turned crimson with heat, and then slid from her fingertips in drips and drops of molten gold to sizzle on the concrete. Aisling squeaked and leapt back as a tiny drop of liquid gold splatted the ground a few inches from her shoe.

Siobhan stared at the puddle of steaming molten gold on the pavement. No. No fuh-reak-ing way. It couldn't be. It couldn't possibly be. No way. _Holy freaking crap, you have_ got _to be kidding me._ She hadn't believed it before. Not really. But how many women could set a piece of gold on fire and melt it down like that?

"Well, that's that," John muttered, glancing at Aisling. The girl had lost her glasses somewhere. Even as the thought entered his mind, Red picked up the coke-bottle frames with the tip of his prehensile tail and dropped them in the kid's hand.

"Thank you."

"No problem. So is that it? We're done? Threat to the world ended and all that crap?"

Aisling shot Red a disapproving look through her cracked lenses. "Don't say 'crap,' it's a bad word."

The demon rolled his eyes. "Oh, gimme a break."

Aisling poked him in the stomach. "Don't roll your eyes, it's rude."

"Thank you, Miss Manners. I'll make a note of that."

The girl cocked her head and studied him with those big green eyes of hers. Red suddenly wondered if maybe he was being a bit harsh. The kid obviously wasn't all there. And she _was_ just a kid. Aisling asked, "Are you being sarcastic?"

"Uh..."

"You!" The voice that echoed around the empty warehouse-like room was regal, and so cold it burned. Aisling felt the touch of that voice all the way to her insides. It shivered over her, like passing through a needle-thin sheet of ice water. Siobhan went utterly still at her side. The younger girl barely noticed. Something inside her - the same something that had jangled and yanked her toward Wink when he'd been in trouble - yearned for that voice. She hadn't yet looked at the speaker, but she wanted to hear more. Hear him say something else. But when it spoke next, beneath the hot fire of anger and the dark chill she couldn't understand, there was a terrible sadness that made her eyes sting. "You will pay for what happened to my friend."

To Aisling's horror, Red responded with, "Yeah, right. Do you take checks?"

The petite girl gasped. "Red! That's horrible!"

"Really? I thought it was pretty funny," the demon replied. Aisling balled up her fist, ignoring the pain searing her hand, and punched the demon in the arm. "Hey. Kid. Don't hit me when I'm dealing with bad guys." He pushed her back a ways. "Stay."

When Aisling started forward, John grabbed her and held the girl back. She strained against the agent's restraining arms. "Lemme go! He can't talk to people like that! That's mean!"

"Aisling, this guy's a bad guy-"

"He's _not_ a bad guy!" The twenty-one-year-old cried, flailing. Siobhan jumped as if suddenly yanked out of a trance and stared at her "sister." Aisling twisted in John's grip and yelled, "He thinks you killed Wink! We have to find Wink, he could be hurt! Lemme go!"

Nuada stared at the ragtag group before him. His sister. Four humans - a man, a woman, and two girls. A fish-man. A gaseous being in a tin and canvas suit. The red demon that had killed or at least badly wounded Wink. All of them watched him with wariness, suspicion, and even fear - except the two girls. One, average height with dark eyes and reddish hair, watched the other girl. And the other girl, small and blond and desperate, seemed to be looking at _him_, but in truth, her eyes were trained on the ground near his feet. There was something wrong with that little mortal girl. Something even more wrong than with the rest of her vile species.

Then her words penetrated. _He thinks you killed Wink. We have to find Wink, he could be hurt._ And Nuada remembered what Puckle and Angwyn had said. That a girl who belonged to the prince had saved Wink from a red demon with a hand of stone.

_No,_ he thought, revulsion twisting in his belly until he thought he might be sick. _No, it can't be. That's impossible. It cannot be._

"You, girl!" The prince snapped. The blond mortal suddenly went very still. "Lift your head. Look at me."

The demon took a step toward the Elf prince. "Hey, buddy. Leave the kid alone-"

"Red, shut up!" Aisling yelped, but the demon merely hefted his gun and curled the fingers of his Hand of Doom into a fist.

The moment the man - _Prince Nuada,_ she thought with no little trepidation, _oh my gosh that's Prince Nuada, he hates humans, oh my gosh, what do I do, what do I do?_ - had said "girl," she'd known he was talking to her. Now, because she wasn't struggling anymore, John loosened his grip and set her on her feet.

Aisling could feel her heart slamming against her ribs. The blood roared through her head. But for once, she didn't feel like she was drowning in pain and fear along with the rushing roar of her pulse.

Siobhan slid her hand into Aisling's and squeezed. "You okay, Ash?" When her younger sister said nothing, Siobhan prodded, "Aisling?"

The other girl nodded. "Yeah. I'm okay, Siobhan."

_Aisling._ Something inside Nuada resonated with the name even as disgust soured on his tongue. His stomach churned. Hatred, black and cold as the farthest reaches of empty space, bitter as poison, flooded his veins even as her name echoed in his skull. _Aisling._ A human. Impossible. _Impossible._ This couldn't happen!

And not just the name Aisling. _Siobhan_. That name struck a chord in him. To a lesser degree than the other, than _Aisling_, but he could still feel her, feel _Siobhan_ whispering beneath his skin, strumming that chord like a musician's fingers plucking the strings on an instrument. _Siobhan._

Aisling could taste every heartbeat as it pounded in her throat. Taste something acrid and bitter on her tongue and wondered what it meant. Every inch of skin tingled with something strange and alive. Her eyes stung. She squeezed them shut. _Look at me,_ he'd said. _Look at me._ The very thought of looking at him scared her to death. Aisling's grip on Siobhan's hand tightened. Siobhan pressed her fingers in reassurance. They would look together.

They lifted their eyes.

Gold. Glittering, beautiful, perfect gold against crimson sclera and surrounded by deep shadows. Everything inside Aisling stood to attention. Her heart skipped a dozen beats before ramming against her breastbone. Such wonderful golden eyes. So full of pain and sorrow and rage and hate. She wasn't scared suddenly. Not at all.

Siobhan stared into a pair of otherworldly eyes like liquid amber. Her stomach clenched. A sharp, sweet pain shot through her from the crown of her head to the soles of her feet. She didn't feel the dull throb of her bruised ribs anymore. No longer felt the chill and the damp. There was only that odd sense of recognition, of coming home, as she looked into those brilliant eyes as fathomless as a golden sea.

Nuada looked at Siobhan first, into an umber gaze so dark it was nearly black. For a moment he was falling into those dark, dark eyes like midnight bronze, eyes the color of the night sky lit by hellfire. Red-gold lashes framed those loathesome eyes. The recognition in the depths of that gaze made bile burn the back of the prince's throat. It nearly choked him when that same feeling of _knowing_ whipped through him. He ripped his gaze away from Siobhan's eyes to look at the other girl. At Aisling.

Green. Wide, slightly unfocused eyes the same pale green as certain types of glass, framed by long golden lashes and thick black glasses. Nuada hated those eyes on sight, as he hated Siobhan's. Despised them for their fake innocence and the shallow color. Loathed the sudden spark of utter joy he saw in their depths as the magic spun out between them like silken wire and connected, locking into place.

Another piece of him, long displaced, settled. Clicked. Even as a strange sense of relief whispered through him, he drowned it out with hatred. But there was no denying the link that had been forged.

Kinship. With a _human_.

With _two_ humans.

His hand fell to the pommel of his sword. They had to die.

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_**Author's Note:**__ so what do you guys think is going to happen next? We really want to know where you see this going. And IK says to make sure you all know that this is not a "harem fic" (what's a harem fic? Apparently a multiple-girl-to-one-guy fic?). It's not one of those. Just so we're clear. Anyway, reviews are love, of course. We'd love to know what you all think. We appreciate all of the input and comments so much!_

_- LA & IK_


	7. Too Easy

_**Author's Note:**__ so we know, it's been forever since our last update. That's because LA's been working on trying to write several books and she's got, like, 8 fanfics she has to keep up with (and she's failing, obviously). So that's why this has taken so long. Consider this to be a Christmas present. LA wrote it for IK as a Christmas gift, and we're posting it for you guys as a gift, too. So yay! Right? So Merry Christmas! Happy... we can't spell Haunahaka. Obviously. But happy that, too._

_- LA Knight and IK Scott_

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**Chapter Six**

**Too Easy**

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In a place beyond the boundaries of space and time, in a darkness primordial and deep, the phantom observed alongside its master as the legendary prince known as Silverlance locked eyes with a pair of human girls from another world. Even as the eldritch beings watched, the mortal warrior maiden took a single step toward the Elf. Revulsion twisted the prince's features. The warrior took another step, this one to the side, placing herself between the Silverlance and the maiden with the broken mind.

*I have doubts,* said the being of living darkness crouched beside the phantom. *The healer is too timid. He will kill her for her weakness and her bloodline.*

The phantom shook what, on another creature, would have been its head. "No. Look at him. Look at _them_. See how she cannot tear her eyes away from him now that she has seen him. The warrior is suspicious; she must be, to have protected the healer all this time. The bard is a suspicious one, too. But the healer trusts. She sees his heart and knows that he suffers, because she has suffered, too."

*He will kill her,* that sepulchral voice insisted. *See his disgust, his rage, his loathing.*

A slim hand of shadow and void reached out and plucked a string in the silver web that kept the vision anchored. The image of the Elf prince and the mortal girls shifted until all that could be seen was Prince Nuada's face twisted with hate. The phantom caressed the illusion of the prince's face.

"Do you see it now?" It turned to its master, never taking its hand away from the vision. One impossibly long finger brushed above the Silverlance's eye. "Look there."

Eyes of tenebrous darkness studied a feral gaze of hot amber. The living midnight creature cocked its head and stared at the image. *Yesss,* the voice like sere wind through deathly tombs hissed in realization. *Yes, I see it now. I see it. But even if he does not kill her because she is weak and human, he will kill her for destroying the two pieces of the Crown.*

"Perhaps," the phantom replied with a shrug. "But," it added, swirling its hand through the vision like a child swishing through shallow water, dispelling the illusion, "I think he will not have the time. Our great enemy has sent more of its minions to disrupt our plan. They may arrive before he has a chance to kill her. Let us see what Silverlance will do."

*The healer will only be a liability to him.*

The phantom shook its head. "We shall see."

**.**

Nuada took a step toward the two human girls that had somehow inexplicably infected him with some twisted form of the kinship bond. The girl with auburn hair - _Siobhan_, his sickening connection to the mortal reminded him, allowing the name to whisper inside his skull like a brush of silk against bone. _Her name is Siobhan._ - lifted her chin and gazed back at him, defiance in every line of her body. Her hands drifted to the hilts of a pair of small swords at either hip. Rage pulsed hot as blood at his temples. She _dared_ to imply she would fight him?

"Please," a tremulous voice whimpered. Eyes of dark amber slashed to the other mortal. The tiny one. The girl called Aisling. Glass-green eyes too big for that small, pale face fixed on the Elven prince. "Please."

Conflicting urges tumbled within the prince's belly, coiling and knotting like snakes. On the one hand, the fear and uncertainty in that soft, little-girl voice pulled at his protective instincts. The kinship bond _demanded_ he ease that fear. Yet there was nothing Nuada would have liked more than to plunge his sword into the empty pit in her skinny chest where humans claimed their hearts resided. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword and took another step. They had to die. _That_ one, especially.

"Hey!" The red demon lifted his firearm and aimed it at the prince. "Back off, buddy, or I'll blow holes in you."

"No!" Aisling cried, stepping in front of the demon, arms akimbo. "No, Red, don't! It's okay!"

The demon looked down at her as he lifted his gun to aim around her slender body. Nuada didn't take his eyes off his enemies for an instant. The demon, Red - what a remarkably _clever_ nickname the little simpleton had invented for the creature - said to the girl, "Kiddo, it's not okay. That guy's lookin' atcha like he wants to cut your head off. Don't step in front of my gun." The demon looked at Nuada. "Now what d'ya want, Legolas?"

Ignoring the oblique reference, the prince sneered and began, "I am Nu-"

"Nuada," Aisling whispered. She turned to look at the prince with those damnable eyes. "Prince Nuada." The way she said his name - lisping slightly at his title, her tongue caressing the syllables of his given name - tugged at the kinship bond between them. Warm pleasure buzzed beneath the Elf's skin. The _bond_ liked the way she said his name.

Repulsed by the reaction brought on by that bond, he snarled, "Be quiet." The girl's mouth snapped shut with an audible _click_ of teeth. "As for what I want, I want my sister returned to me, as well as the two pieces of the Golden Crown. And you _will_ pay for what happened to my friend."

A snort of derision from the demon sent fresh anger simmering in Nuada's blood.

"Like I said - d'ya take checks?"

With something akin to a snarl, Aisling spun back to the demon and kicked him soundly in the shin.

"Will you _cut that out?"_ Red demanded, too astonished to really be angry - yet. "What is your _problem_, kid? Jeez." Flicking his gaze to Nuada, the demon added, "And you can't have the Crown pieces. We melted 'em down already. Tough luck, Your Royal Ass- Aisling, don't you dare kick me again!"

Nuada opened his mouth to demand the truth, to demand the return of the pieces - there had been no _time_ for them to destroy the goblin-forged magical Crown - but three things stopped him. From his sister, his beloved twin, he felt a crushing guilt flooding through their link. A wordless flow of apology. The mortal girl, Siobhan, suddenly looked more afraid than ever before. And Aisling, nibbling her bottom lip, wringing her hands, looked at him with such an expression of regret and apology and sympathy that he thought he might be physically ill.

Then he saw the puddle of still-steaming gold on the pavement a few feet away. It took everything he had not to be violently sick at the sight.

After swallowing back bile, he fixed his gaze on the timid mortal girl. Hate smoldered in his belly, ready to feed on the rage and horror threatening to choke him. "You... you destroyed the Crown pieces." It wasn't a question, but the human wench nodded slowly. "You _dared_. You... you..." Despair welled up like a poisonous fountain in his chest. Gone? The pieces were _gone?_ How was he to raise the Army? How was he to save his people?

Grief and hatred twisted together like vicious thorns and he roared, _"Do you have any idea what you have __**done?"**_

Fat tears welled up in the girl's eyes and spilled down her cheeks to drip off her chin. Pinching her lips together until they were nearly white, she nodded. "Saved you."

He'd sheathed his sword and drawn his knife in a breath. Shoved Siobhan out of his way before any of his enemies could blink. Tangling one hand in the whisper-thin strands of wet blond hair, he ruthlessly yanked Aisling's head back, exposing the slender paleness of her throat. She yelped. The blade of his twin-dagger pressed against all that smooth paleness. A thin line of crimson welled up against the white of her skin and spilled down her neck. She sucked in a sobbing breath.

Nuada ignored the demon's yelled orders and threats. Ignored Siobhan and the other mortals telling him to let the girl go. Forcibly silenced his sister's psychic protests against what he was about to do to this girl. They could do nothing so long as he held a blade to Aisling's throat. Wink was badly injured, probably dead; his father and sister had betrayed him _and_ his people; and now the last hope of the Fair Folk was destroyed. He would make the demon pay, and he would make the girl pay, but the girl would be first. She had not only betrayed him, which should have been impossible because of their bond, but she'd betrayed the entirety of the fae kingdom.

"You have sentenced countless innocents to death," Nuada hissed. Her fear throbbed through the air like the ache from a rotten tooth. Her tears were warm as they spilled from her eyes, flowing along her skin to find his hand tangled in her hair. "And for that, you will die. You will pay for all the innocent lives you've condemned."

"You would've died," she whispered, and there was something different about her voice now. Something... more. It wasn't a child's voice any longer. The vacant glassiness in those pale jade eyes had filled with... _something_. "You would've lost everything. I couldn't let that happen."

Now it wasn't fear pulsing between them, but sorrow. A grief as deep as the burden on his own heart. Impossible. He tightened his grip on her hair. Pressed a little harder with the knife. A trickle of red dribbled down her neck. "You're lying."

"I wouldn't lie," she whispered. "Not to you."

He felt the shock of Nuala's realization flash through him like a lightning bolt. His sister cried, "You have kinship with her!"

Golden eyes smoldering with rage slashed to the princess before fixing on the mortal's face again. Kinship or not, she had betrayed him, and she would suffer for it. "My people will die because of you," he snarled. "Do you understand that? You've killed us all."

"No," Aisling said. That strange, intelligent something had slipped away, leaving the simple-minded doll of a woman-child behind. "You won't let that happen," she mumbled. "You won't. You're good. You'll save them."

A little more pressure and the flow of crimson thickened. "I _will_ kill you."

"That's okay," she murmured. He jolted. The blade slipped a little and a few drops of scarlet stained the silk-fine strands of golden hair. "If you need to... that's okay." A shallow, convulsive swallow pressed her flesh against the blade's keen edge. The coppery stench of human blood was nauseating in Nuada's nostrils and on the back of his tongue. "It's okay."

"Ash!" Siobhan cried. Her terror, thick and oppressive, wrenched at the kinship bond between her and the Elven prince. Nuada gritted his teeth. "Please, Nuada or whoever you are, please! Please don't hurt my sister! Please let her go! Take me instead! _Please!_"

Thunder rumbled overhead. Electricity crackled and static hummed in the air. The stench of decay and death, cloying and sweet as rot, slipped along the air to mingle with the stink of human blood and a strange, subtle perfume clinging to the limp mortal girl Nuada intended to kill. A whisper of warning prickled across the nape of the warrior's neck. Aisling's nose wrinkled. Her vacant eyes widened, darkening from glass-green to jade as fear filled her expression.

"Monsters," the girl whispered. She started to shake. "They're back."

Almost against his will, the white-knuckled grip Nuada had on the girl's hair loosened by an infinitesimal fraction. "What?"

"You have to run," she said. "That smell. Like before. In the house when they came. You have to run. They'll hurt you." Her breathing became rapid and shallow and a sickly green tinge swept across her pale face. "They hurt Wink. They'll hurt you, too. Please, you have to find Wink."

He tightened his grip. "Tell me where Wink is."

Aisling shook her head the tiniest bit. "I don't know. He disappeared after the fight. He's hurt. The monsters hurt him."

"Look, Your Highness," the demon interrupted. Nuada heard the abyssal fire in the red-skinned creature's voice and turned his head just enough to look at the imbecile who dared point a weapon at the Silverlance. One massive red thumb cocked the gun's hammer, priming it to fire. "I'm not telling you again - let her go or I'll blow your head off."

Nuada opened his mouth to say something when Aisling's eyes flew wide and she yelped, "Look out!"

In a blur of ivory, darkness, and shadowed auburn, Siobhan darted around her friend and the Elven warrior even as Nuada turned and registered that several of the chitinous, black-eyed creatures whose brethren lay dead on the concrete were skittering toward the standoff. Fluorescents flashed on silvery metal as Siobhan drew twin short-bladed swords and put herself between the angry eldritch creatures and Aisling.

Terror saturating her voice, Aisling yelled, _"Siobhan!"_

**.**

Siobhan swallowed against the sudden dryness in her throat and tightened her grip on the hilts of her twin tanto. She could barely feel the roughened grips, her fingers were so numb from the cold. Her clothes were still heavy with rainwater. Blood leaked from various cuts and scrapes.

None of that mattered. She had to protect Aisling from these things. The sight of the pasty-faced guy in black holding a knife to her sister's throat had sent ice coiling in the pit of her stomach, but something deep down had told her that while the guy might hurt Ash a little bit, he wouldn't actually do what he'd threatened. He wouldn't _kill_ her. Siobhan wasn't sure how she knew that or why she believed that, but she did. These freaky monsters, on the other hand, _would_ kill Ash. Probably eat her. And then they'd kill this prince guy with the strangely familiar golden eyes. Then they'd kill everyone else. No way was she going to let that happen. No one was getting to Aisling without getting through her first.

She heard Ash scream her name. Ignored her. Had to focus on the bigger threat right now.

Suddenly, she wished fiercely for Geoff. If Aisling was her sister, Geoff was her brother. They'd always taken care of Aisling together, ever since the younger girl had been released from the hospital all those years ago. Siobhan would've felt a lot better about her chances if Geoff had been at her side.

Then the first of this latest wave of monsters launched itself at her with a shrill cry. Bracing herself, she let instinct and muscle-memory take over and fought back.

As if from a long distance away, she heard Red's gun firing. One of the insect-like things exploded in a shower of black slime and midnight goo. Shards of exoskeleton zipped through the air. One sliced Siobhan's cheek; it burned almost to the bone. More gunshots blasted behind her. She vaguely hoped no one shot her, but didn't let herself dwell on the possibility as claws sliced down her arm. Hot blood flowed, chasing away some of the chill from rain and wet clothes. She slashed the thing across the abdomen and watched it topple to the pavement.

They came, and came, and kept coming. This time she had to wonder if they were ever going to stop. How long before the others ran out of bullets? Would Liz try to fry them all with her weird fire powers? She'd melted two pieces of gold; shouldn't she be able to fry some anthropomorphic scorpion-spider hybrid thingies?

Fatigue burned through Siobhan's arms and shoulders. Her blows began to weaken. Distantly she heard Aisling scream her name again. Couldn't stop; had to keep fighting. Had to...

The next blow knocked one of her tanto from her hands. It clattered to the ground with a ringing of steel on stone. A second blow sent Siobhan sprawling across the concrete. Her head cracked against the ground. White fireworks burst across her blurring vision. Her empty hand swept across the pavement, blindly seeking her lost blade. Where... where? _Where?_

A familiar voice shrieked, _"No!"_ A blur of shadows and gold zipped toward the creature bearing down on the dizzy, concussed girl. Siobhan tried to bring the world into focus. Ice flooded her veins and horror stole her voice and breath when she saw Aisling attempt to tackle the monster. The smaller, younger girl hit the rock-hard exoskeleton, bounced off, and hit the ground with enough force to knock the wind out of her.

"No! Ash!" Siobhan yelled as her sister's face went death-white and the creature and a couple of its fellows leaned toward her. _"Aisling!"_

Light flashed on true silver as it swept in a deadly arc across the monster's throat. The carnivorous _thing_ halted, fanged mouth working soundlessly for a few seconds, before the head toppled from its shoulders and the body tumbled to the ground. One next to it stumbled back as an inhuman roar raged through the night. A twisted, metallic hand reached out and grabbed the third monster. A second hand, this one of thick sinewy muscle covered in rocky gray hide, joined with the hand of bronze and ripped the insect-like being's head clean from its shoulders with a spurt of dark ooze.

Siobhan stared at the pale, enraged man standing between her sister and the rest of the creatures, notched sword drawn, feet spread, ready to kill anything else that attempted to attack her or Aisling. Beside him stood the thing she _still_ refused to believe was a troll.

"What took you so long?" The pale-skinned warrior demanded of the hulking beast. It rumbled at him for a second, then garuffed what sounded like a question. "I only intervened because you did," the warrior replied sharply.

"Wink!" Aisling scrambled to her feet and ran to the massive thing that had helped save her. She threw her slim arms around the so-called troll's hefty trunk. "Omigawsh, omigawsh, you're okay! You're..." She pulled back and stared at her hands. Gray liquid smeared across her palms. "You're hurt! How bad? You... you should go to the doctor! You're bleeding! And Siobhan's hurt, too!" Aisling turned and came toward Siobhan, staggering a little as if drunk. "Ow. Siobhan! Get up! Are you okay? You gotta get up."

The other human girl didn't bother getting to her feet. She just crouched on the cement, struggling to get her breath back, eyeing the monsters as they began to recede back into the shadows. No way were they giving up. Not after attacking three times in one night. Not after chasing the girls clear across the country. But the things seemed to be intelligent, since they'd realized that, even wounded, Wink was a match for them.

She still wasn't getting up, though. Not yet. Everything hurt too much, and the world was still spinning a little. She'd get up in a second.

"Siobhan?" Aisling whispered tremulously. Tears thickened her voice as she whimpered, _"Siobhan?"_

The redhead met her sister's teary eyes. "I'm fine, sweetie," she mumbled. "Just tired and a little out of breath."

"You're bleeding, too. Like Wink."

"I'm _fine_. Except my ribs. Those kinda hurt. But just a little."

"Hey!" Red's irate voice snagged both girls' attention. The demon kept one sulfurously yellow eye on the monsters retreating into the Troll Market and his other eye on the guy who looked an awful lot like Prince Nuada and his pretend-troll. "Someone want to explain what just happened? What the heck were those things?"

"Monsters!" Aisling cried. She hugged herself as if cold. "They attacked us at our house and..." When she didn't finish, Siobhan glanced at her. The younger girl was staring at the pasty guy with furrowed brows. "And..." She took a small step toward him. He leveled a glare at her that was probably meant to kill her on the spot. To Siobhan's utter astonishment, Ash ignored that vicious look and took another step. "You're bleeding."

The guy's amber eyes widened and he raised a hand to his face. His fingertips came away wet with yellow blood. Siobhan fought a wave of rising hysteria. Blood wasn't yellow. Blood _wasn't_ yellow. There were no such things as trolls. Demons weren't real. And nobody could melt gold with mental fire. And yet...

_I will_ not _pass out_, she told herself. _I will not pass out, throw up, or have hysterics. I won't do it._

"Do not come a step nearer," the pale guy snarled. Siobhan realized Ash was only a handful of feet away from the guy now. "Stay away from me."

"But you're _hurt!"_

His face twisted with loathing and something else, something too complex and conflicted for the older human girl to comprehend. "It is nothing. Do not come near me." He turned away, as if he meant to simply walk off and leave everyone but Wink where they were. Aisling made a strangled sound and took another step. The guy whipped back around. "I _will_ kill you if you come near me. Do you understand?"

Aisling shrank back with a whimper. That weird, complex whatever-it-was flashed across the so-called Elf's face for a split second. Then he turned back around and started walking away. Wink glanced at Aisling and Siobhan, then fell into step behind Nuada. Everyone simply stood there, stunned, watching the two warriors go.

"Shouldn't we stop them?" Siobhan recognized Myers' voice.

She also recognized the dulcet tones of the tall, slender woman named Nuala when she said, "No. Do _not_ follow them. My brother's plans for the Golden Army and waging war on your world have been thwarted, and he has left you with your lives. You have those two girls to thank for that. Let him go and avoid further bloodshed."

"Wait!" Aisling suddenly cried. To Siobhan's surprise, both Wink and Nuada stopped, though they didn't turn to look at her. "What if the monsters come back?"

Now Nuada did turn, disgust etched across his features. "Do you think I care if they strip the flesh from your bones?"

A tear spilled down Ash's cheek.

Pissed off now on top of being in a lot of pain and ready to drop from exhaustion, Siobhan snapped, "Then why did you save us, Prince Jerkface?" In her head, she could hear Geoff saying, _Really, Siobhan? Jerkface? Really?_

If she'd been smart, she'd have taken one look at the pasty-faced guy's expression and run the other way. But she'd whacked her head less than an hour ago, so her self-preservation instincts had gone on vacation. She blamed it on the potential brain damage.

"Wink risked his life to protect you. That's all."

"Which means our lives are important to him for some reason," Siobhan replied. She struggled to her feet. Swaying, she added, "I know how the best-friend thing works, dude. If it matters to him, it matters to you, or you wouldn't have saved us at all."

Nuala piped up, "They have kinship with you, Brother. Do not deny it - I felt it through you. What will you do with them?"

"Okay, what does that even mean?" Siobhan demanded. "That's the second time you've said that, Princess."

Glacial topaz eyes fixed on the mortal girl's face, then went to Aisling before flicking to Nuala. "I don't care what happens to them, Sister. I do not want them. You can drown them, for all I care. I imagine it would be like culling an ill-bred dog. If those creatures come after these two... _humans_ again, I'll not be the one to save them."

And with that, the Silverlance turned on his heel and strode away. Only when he was out of sight did anyone so much as breathe.

Red did a little more than breathe. "What a dick."

"Red," Abe rebuked quietly. "There are ladies present."

Siobhan ignored the bickering and focused on Ash. She was staring at where the prince had disappeared, yearning so plain on her face it made her sister ache. Fresh tears spilled down the blond girl's cheeks. Her face crumpled. With a soft keening sound, she dropped her face in her hands and sank to her knees on the pavement. Hunching her shoulders, she started to sob. Siobhan went to her and hugged her tightly.

"Well," Red mumbled, watching the kid and rubbing the back of his neck, "crap."

_TBC_

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_**Author's Note:**__ so of course_ nothing _is_ that _easy. Of course it's not. Which is why this chapter is entitled "Too Easy." Is Nuada gonna let go of "let's make war on the humans?" No. Is this the last chapter of this fic? Heck, no. Nuada's not giving up on wiping out humanity, Red's not giving up on stopping him (and getting back at Wink for knocking out his tooth), and you know Krauss is gonna have issues with everything that went down. The only reason Nuada left is because Aisling's right - Wink needs a doctor. Erm... a healer. Whatever. Anyway, so hope you enjoyed this chapter and hopefully we'll have another one soon. LA's goal for IK's Christmas gift is 3 chapters. Since she's writing this on the 12th, that means she's got 13 days to do 2 more chaps. Odds she'll manage it? Who knows? We'll just have to see._

_- LA & IK_


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